Mystery Midnight Kiss
by LaNorita
Summary: Spencer and Ashley are from two different social classes, but is it possible for them to meet somewhere in the middle?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Mystery Midnight Kiss  
Author: Norita  
Rating: PG-13/R  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Like, seriously, nothing.  
Feedback: Is appreciated. Good and bad.**

**Summary: Spencer and Ashley are from two different social classes, but is it possibly for them to meet somewhere in the middle?**

**Author's Notes: This story is originally a Palex-story, but I made a Spashley-version of it a while back (about a year ago) and started posting it on the Spashley-board. Now you can easily find the Palex-version one and spoil yourselves, but since I have 15 pre-written chapters and updates will be very frequent you might just wanna read it here ;) Anyway, the reason why I'm posting this story only now is because I'm not gonna update my other stories for awhile. I'm not really in a writing-mood and I thought that I might post this story until I start updating the rest again. It should keep you busy for awhile if you haven't read it yet. If you did, well then I'm sorry for my temporarily inactiveness. I'll start updating again as soon the inspiration strucks me again.**

**Oh and I changed the title from Kisser to kiss, because apparently you can't post two stories with the same title down here. Lame.**

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The club is buzzing. Bodies are moving to the newest beats, that are expertly scratched by some local DJ. It's the hottest place in town with the hottest people in town. Yet I couldn't feel anymore drained then I already felt. It's New Year's eve and I'm spending it with Aiden. Yes Aiden, as in MVP for the last three years Aiden. I must've been drugged when I agreed to do this, because it's definitely not the night I've been imagining to have. Yes the club is hot, the atmosphere is fucking unbelievable, but Aiden?

Don't get me wrong, I like him. Just not the way he likes me. I'm supposed to be getting into the new year with a fresh start, a clean slate, a new me. And I end up spending it with my very much not new and fresh ex-main squeeze. The worst thing about the night is probably yet to come: the midnight kiss. Of course Aiden being Aiden, will not settle for the quick friendly peck on the lips. He's probably expecting a full-on make-out session. He firmly believes that the head-cheerleader and Basketball-captain are reunited. Unfortunately, he isn't the only one. Practically all of my friends have been giving me calls congratulating and notifying me of their excitement for rekindling my love with 'The One'.

They couldn't have been any more wrong.

I couldn't help but feel nauseous when he started grinding into me and giving me his version of the 'I want you'-look. I wonder if he's familiar with the 'I want to gag'-look and briefly ponder whether I should try it out on him. I discard the thought and simple settle for a fabricated smile and tell him that I'm thirsty. Aiden being the gentleman he is, says to stay where I was and immediately goes to fetch us some drinks. He's a sweet guy, he really is. And he's a great friend and, yeah well, that's pretty much where the story ends. The thing is, he and the majority of the rest of the school thinks otherwise. And who am I to tell them differently?

I'm surrounded by sweaty bodies that are practically having vertical sex and decide to move towards the back. Aiden probably wouldn't find me directly, which is a good thing since it was only ten more minutes for midnight and I'm really not into kissing him dearly right now, or ever as a matter of fact.

You're probably wondering why I'm making such a big deal about this 'midnight kiss'. I mean why can't I simply make-out with him for a minute and be done with it? The answer is simple: I just can't. Midnight kisses are supposed to be special. It's the kiss that knits the old year with the new one. The kiss that would shape my love-life for the entire next year. The kiss that would sweep me off my feet and bring me into frenzy. The kiss that brings you into heaven for a couple of moments right before you land back on the ground with a loud thud. As in importance, it was right up there with the sweetness of your very first kiss with somebody and the bitterness of your very last kiss with that same person. I couldn't possibly share that moment with Aiden. It isn't fair to him, and it certainly isn't fair to me.

Midnight was getting closer and closer and Aiden finally spots me from across the room. He gives me a little nod of acknowledgement and starts making his way through the mass, carefully trying not to spill the drinks. I sigh loudly at the prospect of kissing him and quickly start thinking of a last minute escape-plan. But my inner musings soon halt when I'm suddenly drenched in darkness. Murmurs quickly fill the club, as everyone tries to understand what's happening. I guess Y2K waited 7 years to finally make it's appearance. Slightly relieved, I keep leaning against the wall, casually waiting for the lights to go back on when I feel someone slip their hand into mine and lead me away.

I instantly know that it isn't Aiden.

I'm brought to a deserted corner of the club and pinned to the wall before I can even utter a word protest. I squint my eyes as I desperately try to see who this person is, but the obscurity isn't helping my cause. The mystery person puts their hands on my waist and leans in to me, pressing the whole of their body into mine. Any logic and coherent thoughts I have completely leave my mind, but I still know that this definitely isn't Aiden. This person, who's small yet strong body with more curves than mine, is a girl.

When it looks like the lights aren't going to turn back on any time soon, the crowd decids to make the best of it and start the countdown anyway. With each number that is said, I feel her hot breath coming closer and closer. My heart pulse is uncontrollable. My breathing's erratic to say the least. My designer jeans? Well, let's just say that laundry-day will be happening a little earlier this week. The last second off the year finally passes, and her lips ultimately meet mine. The kiss starts out gentle, and the touch is lingering. There's a small hesitation on both parts, as if we're both taking our time the memorize the feeling of that very first touch. It's precious, tender, intimate and so full of love.

It's at that moment that the fragile girl in me found herself her true soul mate. A soul mate with no name and no face, but a soul mate it is. The kiss heats up and I want nothing but to capture her lips with desperate urgency. Frantically unifying our souls and bodies with our mouth. I slightly part my lips and soon our tongues meet in a dazzling dance. Caressing each other, exploring each others mouth trying to find that buried treasure that we hid so well. Blood's rushing furiously through my veins. Breath is coming in shorts gasps.

Overwhelmed and overpowered by an emotion that I've never felt before. Our hands wander under each others shirts, frantically trying to feel the heat that' radiates from our torching skin. Everything about this moment, about this kiss, about this mysterious girl kissing me in the midst of the night feels like a perfect dream. And, unfortunately, every single dream has to end some way somehow. Our lips finally part and I let out a whined moan, realizing that I might never get to feel that sensation again. She leans back into me and bring her mouth dangerously close to my ear.

"Happy New Year." she whispers huskily before backing up and letting her fingers linger on mine shortly until she's completely away. She leaves me leaning against that wall, fingers lightly tracing my bruised lips. She left me utterly and completely dazed. Dazed by her mystifying sense and taste and touch. A touch that's so pure, yet so innocent. A touch that makes my heart ache of desire. A desire that I've never felt. A touch that makes me yearn a person I don't even know.

I'm brought out of my bemused state as the lights flickered back on and the music starts playing again. I instantly spots a worried Aiden making his way over to me.

"I've been looking the whole place for you. I thought you left?"

" No I didn't I just .. stood in the corner waiting for the lights the flicker back on."

_Waiting for reality to strike back in._

He continues his monologue on how he was searching me and how upset he was that we couldn't kiss our way into the new year. I absentmindlessly nod , as I scan the place to find my mystery kisser. Is it the blonde that's humping in between the two jocks? The redhead that's downing the vodka at the bar? Or the brunette that's trying to ignore a guy who's desperately trying to get her attention?

But all of them fade as I see her. I instantly now it's her. Not a singly hair on my head that doubts it. It's just this feeling you get. There's absolutely no logical explanation and nothing can be proved, but I just know. I look at her and soak in every single inch. Wild auburn locks, smoking hot body, angelic face with devilish features. She notices me and stares right back, piercing her chocolate eyes into mine. I suddenly find myself being pulled to the dancefloor by Aiden, without me even perceiving it. He's producing his lame dance moves all over again, when I see her forming an amused half-smirk as she takes a sip of her beer. Aiden keeps on dancing with me but my eyes and my mind never dart from hers. My body's on the dance floor, but my heart and soul are sharing a drink with her.

It's crazy how strong the sexual tension you can feel, seeing how she's on the opposite part of the club with hundreds of teenagers parting us. That's when I realize that my mystery kisser is my biggest foe.

Battles I had won, battles she had won. Wars we had fought. Love we were going to make.

My New Year's resolution contains two words: Ashley Davies.


	2. Chapter 2

Lunch-time and I'm stuck with Madison and Aiden again. The guy wouldn't let go of me. Granted I hadn't told him to back off, nor did I confirm or deny the rumors of us getting back together. I had successfully dodged any 'alone-time' and every time he tried to kiss me I just conveniently searched an inexistent lost object on the floor or simply walked away stating that I had to go somewhere. You'd think he'd take a hint. I guess he never really was one of the bright ones. Yet he was my bofriend for like forever.

I'm poking the so-called food in my plate, which doesn't even look remotely edible, while Madison keeps nagging about my ass of a brother, Glen. Which isn't nearly as bad as Aiden trying to get closer and closer to me during the whole conversation. I look up and scan the area, desperately trying to cast my attention away from my seemingly crappy lunch. Clay, is engrossed in one of his math-books again while Chelsea desperately is trying to get his attention. I love my brother, I really do. But how moronic can a guy be and give more attention to algebra than the hot chick that's throwing herself at you?

Speaking of brothers, there's Glen hitting on Sherry again, desperately trying to make Madison jealous. Which is, considering her non-stop nagging ever since the moment she saw me, working like a charm. How much is it now? Break-up part 18? God, could King High and their stupid residents be any more predictable?

Just when I want to officially declare this lunch the worst ever, I notice her. Casually leaning against the wall across the quad, flipping uninterested in a magazine. It's been a week since New Year's eve, and we haven't said a word to each other, actually we didn't even see one another. Not that we used to be bestest friends or anything, but we talked. Well, insulted would be a more appropriate term. You see, me and Ashley have a confrontation in the hallways at least once a week. Whether it's a Monday or a Friday, we knew it would happen eventually. Like some sort of unwritten rule. And it isn't until now, that I realize how much I relished them. Nobody stands up to Queen Spencer. No, they bow down. But not Ashley. Ashley bites back.

And she bites good.

A sudden slipped-around-my-waist arm, wakes me up from my daze. I roll my eyes and scoot away from the delusional guy next to me. When I look back up I see her leaving, taking a turn towards the bathroom. _Great._ Oh well, perfect excuse for me to get out of Aiden's grip and to see her again. I excuse myself from the table and unconsciously start fixing my hair and straightening my clothes on my way to the restroom. I open the door and spot her at one of the sinks, splashing water on her face. She looks up in the mirror and instantly locks eyes with mine. The gaze lingers for a while, before she finally lowers down her face and continues her previous actions.

"So, you wanna have a fight in here? There's like no audience. Kinda ruins the fun." She chuckles, still with her back to me.

"I don't want to fight." I say plainly.

She turns around and flashes me a half-smirk.

"Well yeah, not _fight_, fight. We wouldn't wanna mess up that pretty face of yours, now wouldn't we?" She snorts sarcastically.

"Not fight at all. I just want to talk." I say staring deeply into her eyes.

"Wait, wait. Where's Ashton? Princess wants to talk to me? Aren't you afraid you're gonna catch the poor-kid-syndrome or worse, the-no-fashion-taste-bug?" she snorts.

Silence falls upon us as I start crossing and uncrossing my arms across my chest, contemplating my next move. I'm surprised that she didn't just bolted out of that bathroom right away, but instead she keeps leaning against the sink with her hands in her pockets and a smug smile on her face. It suits her. That look. Simply because it isn't fake. Ashley doesn't do fake. Her posture, her expressions, they are always genuine. They reflect who she is. No, there's nothing fake about Ashley.

"So, do you that a lot?" I ask as I lean against one of the stalls' door right on the opposite of her.

"Do _what_ a lot?" She snaps already aggravated.

"Kiss random people in the dark." I respond while raising an eyebrow.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She says while nervously shifting her eyes from mine.

"Oh you know, New Year's Eve, hot club, lights going off, you pinning me against the wall and kissing me, leaving me fucking breathless." I say shrugging casually.

"Don't flatter yourself, Princess. Not everybody is willing to throw themselves at you, like some brainless idiotic ass-kissing follower." She retorts annoyed.

"Most people in this school do."

"God, could you be any more vain?" She interrupts me as she raises her arms in the air out of frustration.

"But you ... you wouldn't." I continue dead-serious.

"Exactly. Whoever the idiot was that 'kidnapped' your sorry ass at that club, it wasn't me." She says, growing more and more angry with the moment.

"Who are you fucking kidding Ashley. I know it was you. I'm not as dumb as I am blonde." I spit angrily.

"You know what, I'm really starting to think that you're making this shit up. I mean you, being kissed in the dark by an unknown _girl _and you didn't call the cops? Yeah right!" she laughs.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask offended.

"It means that you care too much about your fucking popularity to enjoy being kissed by a girl, cause God forbid somebody might call you a dyke. No, you'd rather prance around with a dumb-ass guy who you absolutely can't stand. You just wait until the lights go off so you can let your guard down, but once it lights up again you're back to being Princess Popular. You're pathetic." She snorts while looking me square in the eye.

She insulted me. Just like so many other times. On any other day, any other argument, I would've had the perfect comeback. But not now, not this argument. Because she's right. Every single thing she said, was so damn right. She insulted me. And I should hate her. I should be angry with her. But I can't. She's slowly drawing me into her web and soon I'll surely be smoldered. Silence is upon us again, and I realize that she still hasn't said what I wanted to hear.

"So you admit it then." I say walking towards her.

"I didn't admit anything. I told you I wasn't one of your ass-kissing followers." She glares at me.

"I know. Doesn't mean it wasn't you." I respond seriously.

"And how the hell would you know that it was in fact me." She says challenging me.

I step even closer towards her, until there's barely any space between us.

"Because the girl that kissed me …" I say while putting my hand on the exposed skin in between her ridden up shirt and jeans," Felt just like you." I continue as I rub my thumb across her stomach.

"And the girl that kissed me …" I whisper while inching closer and barely brushing my lips against hers," Tasted just like you."

She's too dumbfounded for words when I look her in the eyes so I simply step away.

I walk towards the door, stopping my movements once I reach it .

"Maybe the girl that kissed can light my darkness." I say with my back facing her, before I reach the handle and let myself out.


	3. Chapter 3

Another week has passed and no fights have occurred. No insulting marathon have found place in the hallways. I'm craving a confrontation, even if it is some silly name-calling. I need it. It's my anti-drug. My sanity. My moment of the week. Or is it just a cover-up? A cover-up for something that lies way deeper than some random derision? Maybe I just need her.

Either way, I'm not getting it. Every time we pass each other, faces would be turned. Interest would immediately shift to the ever-so-fascinating floor. Did she disturb our relationship by kissing me? Or did I disturb it by confronting her? I have no idea. But what I do know, is that I need her. I need her to be my _something_. My someone. Friend, lover, foe. I didn't care what exactly, but it had to be something. Cause right now, it looked like nothing. That thought just hurt too damn much.

I instantly spot her as I walk into class by Madison's side. Same place as always. Last row, last seat on the left, just by the window. She's looking outside, clearly lost in her thoughts. Peaceful, but still with a harshness on her face. Unique as always of course. I'm brought out of my daze as Madison calls me over to sit next her. Same place, like always. I don't even have time to sit properly, before she starts talking my ear off. I barely respond through some continuous and simple nodding, giving her some kind of assurance that I was listening intently. Misleading as always.

Of course.

The murmurs of my peers slowly fade as Mrs. James makes her entrance into the classroom. And rightfully it seems as she immediately positions herself in front of her desk, ready to make her first speech of the day.

"So class, today I'm going to give you an assignment on poetry. You are expected to analyze a total of 5 poems. You'll analyze 3 poems of my choice and two of your own choice. Since this is a partner assignment, each partner gets to choose one. If the partners are not content with each others choices, they will need to convince each other. And I'd like to hear all of the arguments that were given."

Murmurs invade the classroom again, as several students mutter their obvious discontent on our latest task. Others are already a step ahead and start partnering up, but Mrs. James clearly has different idea. More shocking things have already occurred in class.

"I inform you, that you can not choose your own partners. You'll be taking a big dive next year and choices will be made for you. So this is also an exercise on learning to work with people you don't usually work with. I've decided to partner you up basing myself on the alphabetical list, so you won't think that I'm picking on you by partnering you up with someone you won't like. If you're lucky your best friend's last name will start with the same letter as yours, if not then you'll have to make the best of it." She explains.

"Great, not only is this a stupid assignment, we can't even choose our own partners." Madison whispers in annoyance. It's clear by the moans and groans around me that she isn't the only who's sharing that thought.

"Now this assignment, isn't to be taken lightly. These grades are worth a significant percentage of your final grade. You'll have five weeks to work on it both in class, and out of class. So try and make full use of it." She advices us one last time.

"Now the groups are as following: Leanne Adison and Jimmy Baker, Spencer Carlin and Ashley Davies, Kevin Deans and Madison Duarte, Sophie Ellington and Laura Franks, Jason Grant & Liza Harding, …"

"Great, out of all the people that I can work with, they hook me up with the freak that eats his glue for lunch." Madison sighs dramatically, conveniently drowning out our teacher's voice.

I don't answer her and it takes her a few beats pass before she finally realizes who I'm teamed up with.

"But, I guess working with the Glue-eating-freak isn't nearly as bad as working with Davies." She chuckles amused but I simply keep quiet. Not knowing for sure, how I'm supposed to feel. Whether I should be happy and relieved or mad and disappointed. My expression is completely blank and it doesn't go lost on my counterpart..

"Spence, you're zoning. It's going to be fine. I mean, she hasn't insulted you or anything lately so it doesn't have to be that bad." She says, trying to kick some hope into me.

Of course Madison, doesn't know about the midnight kiss or the confrontation in the bathroom. Or that second barely-there-kiss, that was initiated by me. Technically speaking she is my best friend. And technically speaking, I should tell her everything. But in reality, that did not happen. I never was a fan of the technical regulation anyway.

Mrs. James hands us our poems and I grab all the courage I have to lift myself from my desk and head over to Ashley's. Because there's no way that Ashley Davies would tire herself out and shift places herself. I sigh heavily before finally wandering over to the back of the class and sit in the empty seat next to her. Briefly wondering if I ever sat in this area of the class.

She doesn't bother to take her eyes from the window and I honestly don't dare to shake her out of her thoughts. Silent moments pass before I finally decide to speak up.

"So, I guess we're stuck with each other." I joke in attempt to lighten the mood. But it all is in vain as she doesn't even move an inch from her position. I nervously shift in my chair, before I regain my composure and try again.

"Any idea, what poem you're going to choose?" I ask casually. Or try to anyway. There's a tremble present in my voice that I'm not used to hear. One that doesn't help any further as she continues ignoring any of words. It's bad enough that she won't talk to me. It's even worse that she keeps watching through the window, completely disregarding my presence altogether.

I sigh heavily and give it one last try.

"Look Ashley, I know that ithis/i, this whole you-and-me working together, sucks right now. But what sucks more is that this counts for a large part of our final grade. And I am in no mood to fail this, and I'm pretty sure you aren't either."

"You don't know a thing about what I want or don't want, got that?" She hisses menacingly, finally shifting herself towards me in a quick rush.

"Okay, okay I got it. Don't bite my nose off." I reply, hands raised defensively in the air.

She isn't looking through the window anymore, but she isn't looking at me either. It's her desk that forms her object of fascination this time around. At least I'm doing some sort of progress and it's better than nothing at all.

"Look, we don't have to be best friends to work on this. Let's just forget whatever happened these last few weeks - or didn't happen - and concentrate on this. The sooner we start, the sooner we're done with it." I say exasperated.

She looks up at me and I half-expect a sneer but instead I get a small nod. Now, I talked to you about those nods earlier on. You know, the ones that give you a fake assurance of safety and understanding or any other similar satisfaction. Well, this isn't one of them. Cause like I said before, Ashley doesn't do fake. She may be a bitch and a social outcast, but whatever she does, it's done genuinely.

"Okay, so let's start then." I say a little too excited.

"Oh, joy!" she snorts out sarcastically.

I move my desk and chair closer to hers so that we both can read of the sheets.

"So, let's start with the beginning. The first poem is titled 'To a Lady Seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall' and written by one John Keats, whoever that is. They could've at least given us a guy that we'd actually heard about before." I say as I roll my eyes. To say that I'm poetically challenged is an understatement. You could say that I enjoy the occasional poem here and there when the time was right, but it had to be as simplistic ever. What's the point in trying to find the beauty in a poem, when you didn't understand half of it?

She looks at the sheet pensively, before she shifts her gaze back to the window beside her. I'm about to groan of frustration, but am momentarily interrupted as she starts talking again.

"Keats was like this English poetic, lyrical genius. You know, he was the archetype of the English Romantic movement. He had the most amazing works, but nobody appreciated it. He was constantly criticized for no apparent reason. Everything that meant something in his life, was simply destroyed brutally one way or another. His dad died in an accident when he was eight, his mom died of tuberculoses when he was 14, and he spend a huge chunk of his life taking care of his brother, who also had tuberculoses, before he finally died too. On top of that, he was madly in love with a girl of which he knew he would never be good enough for. And when his work finally was being appreciated and things finally looked a little brighter for him, he was diagnosed with tuberculoses himself and died at the age 26."

She hasn't taken her eyes at all of the window while enlightening me who this John Keats was.

"That's pretty sad." I say not knowing exactly how to respond to what she said.

She turns back around towards me and looks me attentively in the eyes. The intensity in them is clear and for a moment I swear I might actually read something unfamiliar in them. Something that I'm not used to seeing. But it's gone before I can even process it properly.

"Yeah, well life's a bitch." She retorts while raising her eyebrows.

"I didn't knew that you-"

"That I could string a few coherent sentences, that actually mean something without insulting someone?" She scoffs whilst shaking her head.

"No, it's just I didn't knew you were so such a big poetry-fan or whatever." I say a little surprised.

"There a lot of things you don't know about me. Where's the fun in talking to someone when you already know everything about them." She tells me bored while inspecting her fingernails.

"You're right. You're absolutely right." I say sincerely.

"Well, that's a first. I should record those words, might never get to hear them again." She sniggers.

I smile. Genuinely. This girl is damn full of surprises, and I can't wait until I can wrap out the next one. The bell rings and she stands up quickly while grabbing her backpack.

"As much as I love talking to you …" She tells me on an exaggerated tone, while pointing towards the door indicating that she wants to leave. Okay sarcasm obviously wasn't going to be one of her surprises. I'm pretty sure her slogan is "Sarcasm, Just Do It."

"I'm gone." She adds.

"Wait! Uhm …do you think … I mean, do you want to, like, come over to my place tonight? You know, to work on the assignment over a pizza or something." I ask nervously while fidgeting with my hands. I know that I was putting myself on the line here. But I couldn't not ask, there's something about her that draws me in. That glint in her eyes earlier on, only got me more intrigued.

"Look Princess, I think spending our time together in class is already more than enough. No need for some Super Duper Fun slumber parties." She mocks.

"Look, I've already overheard several students taking a bet on when we'll _exactly_ start killing each other off. And I for one would like to piss them off by proving them wrong and ace this damn thing. And though _'there are a lot of things I don't know about you'_," I say, airquoting her earlier statement, "I'm pretty sure you like pissing off people too."

"Yeah, a little." She smirks. "Wait, you think we could get into this bet too?"

"Ashley." I say sternly.

"Come on, we'll split the money, 70-30." She winks.

Her 'offer', if you can call it that, is met with my silence in hopes that she'll catch the message on her own and let it go.

"Fine, whatever be like that. You're such a wuss." She snaps while crossing her arms.

"So are you coming or not?" I ask anxiously. It's a new feeling to me because I usually don't care a whole lot about who comes or doesn't come to my place. Actually most of my friends just invite themselves over, much to my annoyance most of the time. Ashley pretty much is the first person in a very long time that I invited over personally and of which I was really hoping she' come.

"Ugh, I can't believe I'm doing this." She mutters under her breath. "Where do you live? And don't tell me it's that big white castle down at Fairystreet."

"Actually it's the big purple one at Magicstreet." I laugh lightly, partly because she said yes and partly because the banter between us seems to come so natural suddenly.

She rolls her eyes and gives me a sly smile. Yes, a smile. Not a smirk. Not a grin, a smile.

"Just write it down or whatever."

I quickly grab a pen from my desk and take her hand in mine - not even bothering to think about the gesture - and neatly start writing down the address. Just as she's about to retreat her hand from mine I surprise her (and myself for that matter) by blowing on her palm in attempt to dry the ink properly. I look up and her deep browns are fixated on mine, giving me a glimpse of what I saw in her eyes just a while ago. Seconds slowly tick by, before we finally realize where we are again and what were doing. We quickly withdraw our hands from the other and proceed to cast our eyes anywhere from each other.

"Uhm, so I'll see you at 8. There's nobody home so you don't have to worry about obnoxious brothers or nosy 'rents." I joke trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Sure, see you then." She responds hastily and if I didn't knew better shyly? She turns around and hurriedly exits the classroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Is she my friend? My foe? My secretive lover? Unfortunately, I still have no idea. But one thing is sure, she's definitely my someone.


	4. Chapter 4

8.23

She isn't going to come isn't she? God, I'm such a fool for thinking that Ashley Davies, badass extraordinaire, would actually come over to her arch nemesis' house. Why did I care so much about her coming over or not anyway? Oh yeah, I remember. She kinda made-out with me and I sorta enjoyed it. Or maybe I'm just pissed that I ordered one large pizza, and that it's going to go to total waste.

Yup, that must be it.

I'm about to plop myself on the couch and drown in self-pityness when I hear the doorbell ring. I make my way towards the door, pondering if had forgotten to tip the pizza-guy. I unlock the door and-

"Ashley!" I exclaim a little too loud and way too excited considering the look she's giving me right now.

"Princess." She nodds curtly and slightly annoyed already.

"I thought you weren't gonna come." I mutter while fiddling with my hands. It baffles just how nervous she seems to make me whenever she's in close distance with me. A feeling that I'm far from used too.

"I thought you invited me over." She responds with a smirk.

"Yeah, but you're kinda late."

"Oh come on. Never heard of the term 'fashionably late'? And here I thought you had royal blood." She feigns shock as she puts her hand over her trademark black tanktop-covered chest.

I roll my eyes before I glare at her. I've been giving a lot of those lately. They just don't seem to have the same intensity as they used too.

"So …" I say, trying to start a conversation.

"So are you gonna let me in or are we gonna work on the doorsteps?" She chortles, obviously amused at my uneasiness.

"Oh right. Sorry .." I blush as I step aside to let her in.

"I thought we could work in my bedroom if that's okay with you?"

"Beats me .." She shrugs while examining her surroundings.

"I hope you like pizza's with pepperoni-topping?" I say in a sing-song voice, feeling the need to make her feel as comfortable as she can.

"Hey, any free food is good food with me." She answer, while raising her eyebrows.

I quietly laugh at her comment and lead her up the stairs and to my room. The amusement is written all over her face the moment she walks in.

"Okay, what's so hilarious again?" I sigh heavily.

"I was just thinking; 'Gee, I wish I had a room _just_ like yours'" she replies sarcastically.

"What? You jealous of my mega-cool room?" I grin.

"Oh yeah. Gosh, pink really is, like, the new black right? So totally awsum!" She says in her best Valley girl-voice.

"Uhu, if you want I can come and decorate yours?" I suggest with a little too much flirt lacing my voice than I had planned.

"Yeah." She mumbles with a more serious tone, dropping down her gaze to the ground. Way to spoil the mood again, Spencer.

"Uhm so, poetry!" I practically screech in attempt to break the tension.

"Yeah, poetry!" she replies.

"I think the bed's probably the most comfortable place we can sit on. You go ahead and sit down, I'm gonna grab the pizza from downstairs and get some drinks." I say while pointing towards the bed.

"Cool." She nods.

I head downstairs to the kitchen, grab the pizza and drinks and quickly head back up. When I enter my room, I find her huddled over a well filled box in a corner. I contemplate whether I should interrupt her or not. I have an urge to simply let her do whatever she wants, as long as I can watch. Just simply watch her being _her_. Study her assets, her movements, her expressions, everything that makes Ashley the girl she is. I quietly observe her for a few minutes while she ruffles through the box with a certain gentleness, as if she's afraid to damage the contents.

"So, I see you found my secret stash of vintage vinyl's." I smile shyly as I place the pizza and beverage on the bed.

"I'm sorry, I was j-just watching …" She stutters, clearly startled by my sudden voice. Ashley apologizing and stuttering is definitely a first in my book.

"Ashley, it's okay. I have no problem with it. Watch all you want. It might earn my room a couple of much needed cool points." I laugh.

"You got some classic records down here." She states surprised.

"You act shocked."

"Yeah well, I thought you were more into Britshit and Slutina." She chucles as she looks me straight in the eye.

"Well, there are a lot of things you don't know about me." I say, mimicking her tone from earlier that day.

She flashes me a genuine smile, and hovers back over the box to continue looking through the LP's.

"Seriously though, The Beatles?" She asks me in disbelief.

I roll my eyes again and make my way towards her. I sit cross-legged on the floor next to her and leave a respectable margin between us. Trying as hard as I can not to ruin the lighthearted mood this time around.

"A few years ago, Clay dragged me to one of those flea markets and-"

"Wait, wait. You in a flea market? Please, tell me you took pictures?" She asks highly amused.

"I'm telling you, if you let this out to anyone I'm going to hunt you down like a dog." I warn in a low voice and with a threatening finger pointed to her.

"I won't tell, I promise. Cross my heart." She grins.

"Good. Anyway, I was telling a story before I was rudely interrupted." I state while staring her down. She holds up her hands in apologetic manner and gestures for me to continue.

"So, I was shuffling through the market, beyond bored when suddenly I see the most amazing thing ever. And I mean like, ever _ever_. And to my own surprise it wasn't a Dolce Gabbana-outfit or the latest Ipod-device, not that you find those things in flea markets anyway." I say while shrugging my shoulders. She flashes me a large smile again and urges me to carry on.

"Anyway, it was this small portable phonograph in a polished mahogany suitcase. I know, _so_ not me. The thing is, I barely ever had seen one in my entire life and yet I was intrigued the moment I saw it. It's just, I can't explain it, but I was immediately drawn by it. I was head over heels, and I just had to have it. And the guy that sold it to me handed me two Beatles-records on top of it. And I remember like the first weeks, I didn't even dare to touch it. I just put it on my drawer and just cherished by watching it or whatever. But one day my grandpa came to visit and he actually taught how to play the records properly. And that's when I fell in love for the second time."

"You fell in love with your Grandpa?" She asks me, slightly disgusted.

"No, moron. I fell in love with The Beatles. Which I guess is even worse since that kinda sums up my love-life of the last few years." I say while rolling my eyes and it earns me a soft chuckle.

" … And ever since, I've been rummaging flea market after flea market, in the hopes to find some rare LP's. But again, that's my secret and nobody has to know about it." I jokingly threaten her.

Stillness fills the room again, as I see her eyes shift from the LP's to my eyes, only to be averted back to the records.

" I'm sorry, I can babble people's heads off obviously. You probably loathe me even more now." I explain while letting out a nervous laugh.

"No, it's cool. That was an interesting story to say the least." She says sincerely.

Our eyes lock again. And this time neither of us shift our gazes. Blue orbs meet chestnut browns and mix into a story of their own. I feel her soul slowly pouring into mine as I experience the same sensations I felt that blissful night. My breathing slowly quickens as I undergo a fluttery feeling in my stomach. I shift my eyes from hers towards her full lips, and notice that they're slightly parted. I could've sworn that I saw her tongue gently lick her lips, but my mind could've simply been playing tricks on me. I see her lips move and I hear a faint voice in the background. Not registrating what is said, I simply keep on observing her lips. I quickly shake my head of all my thoughts, when reality finally hits me of how moronic I probably look.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask hoarsely.

"I said we should probably get to that poem."

"Oh, yeah you're right." I say nervously, before quickly getting up.

"The pizza's probably too cold to eat." I add guiltily, wondering just how long we sat there in that dark forgotten corner of my room.

"It's okay, I wasn't that hungry in the first place." She shrugs, while getting up herself.

"Okay well, let's start then." I exclaim once I plop myself on the bed. I pat the space next to me indicating for her to sit by me after seeing her awkwardly stand by the wall. She shyly follows suit and gently places herself on the other side of the mattress. I put the copy of the poem between us and ready myself to finally start the assignment.

"Okay, so like you already know the first poem is titled "To a Lady Seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall". _And_ I read it earlier on, _and_ I don't get it." I say bluntly. When I said I was poetically challenged, I meant I was poetically challenged.

"Read it."

"I already read it." I answer, not really understanding her what she means.

"Not like that. I mean, read it now. Out loud. Read it." She orders softly.

"Okay …" I let out a hesitantly.

"So, I have to warn you; my poetry-voice sucks." I say meekly.

She dramatically rolls her eyes, and gesturs to start reading.

"Okay … _'To a Lady Seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall'."_

_"Time's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb_

_Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,_

_Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,_

_And snared by the ungloving of thine hand_

_And yet I never look on midnight sky,_

_But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;_

_I cannot look upon the rose's dye,_

_But to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight._

_I cannot look on any budding flower,_

_But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips_

_And hearkening for a love-sound, doth devour_

_Its sweets in the wrong sense: - Thou dost eclipse_

_Every delight with sweet remembering,_

_And grief unto my darling joys dost bring."_ I finish breathlessly.

"So?" She inquires.

"So, I still don't get it." I let out frustrated.

"See, that's your problem. You're focusing too much on the 'understanding' part. You don't analyze a poem just like that." She says, snapping her fingers for emphasis.

"Than how do I do it." I whine, sounding like a petulant child.

"Well for starters. You read the poem for a few times, not just once." She chuckles.

"Okay, I get it. Read poem more than once." I moan aggravated at my incapability to understand the poem.

"Then you search for possible word groups."

"Word groups?" I ask.

"Word groups." She replies.

"Okay, care to enlighten me any further …"

"Well, if you look carefully you'll see that there are a couple of words that belong to the same group: word groups." She states matter-of-factly.

"Sounds logical."

"Is logical. Look," she says while pointing to the poem with a pencil, "The poem starts with the word 'Time', and if you read further you'll read several other words that indicate time. You got; 'five years', 'Long hours', 'midnight'. And next to that you also got words that imply time, like; 'slow', 'Since', 'never', 'memory'd', 'remembering'-"

" 'For a few moments' .." I interrupt. "Titles count too, right?"

"Right." She grins.

"So what does this tell us exactly?" I ask suddenly engrossed with it all.

"Well, it tells us what this poem focuses on."

"Time?"

"Pretty much, yeah." She shrugs.

"And that's it? The poem is about time?" I let out both confused and disappointed.

"Hang on Princess. That's part one of the analyses. There are several other word groups in there." She states while motioning towards the paper.

"Which ones." I ask curiously.

"Uh, last time I checked this was a partner-assignment." She snorts.

"Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry. It's just that you seem to be this big poetry- virtuosi and I'm ... not."

"Well, you're here to learn." She beams at me and I revel this new side I get so of her. A side that I'm pretty sure is completely lost on so many people.

"Okay, so um. 'Midnight sky', 'rose's dye', 'budding flower' what does that lead too?" she asks while staring my in the eye.

"I don't know .. Nature?" I allege tentatively.

"Exactly. And 'eyes', 'cheek', 'lips'? She enquires again.

"Faces?"

"Bingo."

"So that's like two extra word groups?"

"Yes."

"So the poem is about time, nature and faces?"

"Okay. You really need to learn to look deeper into things and start making some links." She laughs as she shakes her head.

"Ugh, I'm never gonna get this right." I reply annoyed at my stupidity.

"Relax, you're trying too hard. Poetry isn't about trying, and thinking your brains out. It's about feeling. It's about the emotions you feel when the words roll over your tongue."

"Close your eyes." She whispers.

"What?"

"Just close your eyes. Everything comes a lot easier in the dark. Just try it." She urges me on.

I think back to New Year's Eve and the sensations I felt in that idyllic darkness, and my eyelids close on cue.

"Now I'm gonna read a small verse, just try to keep the word groups in the back of your mind."

I rest my head against the headboard, completing my relaxation and continue listening to her soothing voice.

"I cannot look upon the rose's dye, but to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight. I cannot look on any budding flower, but my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips." She reads softly.

"What do you think that he means?"

"Um, he seems to be comparing her features with nature's feature's?" I assume hesitantly.

"Yes and …"

"And I think that he just is reminded by her all the time. Everywhere he looks she's there." I explain, more fluently and sure of myself than a few moments ago.

"Good start. Okay, listen. What about this: Every delight with sweet remembering,  
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring."

"I … I don't know." I sigh irritated.

"Okay, that's alright. I assume by your little stack over there, you know the song 'Yesterday' by The Beatles?" She asks.

"Yes, but I don't understand what-"

"Just hear me out. I'll say the first sentences of the verses and you the end alright?"

"Okay." I respond, not really understanding why she's dragging the song into this but fully trusting her nonetheless.

"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay …" she starts.

" I believe in yesterday" I continue.

"Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me …"

"Yesterday, came suddenly "

"Why she had to go, I don't know. She wouldn't say. I said something wrong …"

"Now I long, for yesterday"

"Okay. Now think about all those parts you just said. What do you notice?" She questions.

"I .. I don't know. I really don't Ashley!" I let out desperately.

"Yes, you do! Just let the words gently linger in your head. And remember to let it just wash over you."

It's easier said than done, but I'm willing to put some effort into it. I long for yesterday. I believe in yesterday. Yesterday came suddenly. Okay so obviously yesterday was great.

That's it.

Yesterday was great, not is great.

"It's a contradiction." I suppose.

"How so?"

"He longs, he believes in something that already passed. He says that it 'came suddenly', but it can't cause it already happened." I explain calmly.

"Alright, now listen to me again: Every delight with sweet remembering, and grief unto my darling joys dost bring."

"It's a contradiction." I say, smiling broadly in the process.

"How so?" she chuckles, sensing my excitement.

"The 'sweet remembering' is at the same time the cause of his 'grief'. His pleasure and his pain are inseparable. Thus it's paradoxical." I clarify.

"Yes that's-"

"And it's not the only thing that's paradoxical." I cut her short. " Can you repeat the part about the budding flower." I ask.

"I cannot look on any budding flower, but my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips.  
And hearkening for a love-sound, doth devour its sweets in the wrong sense."

"When he sees a flower he thinks about the lady's lips. But instead of looking at the flower or smelling the flower he's 'hearkening for a love-sound'. He's listening to it, which explains 'the wrong sense'."

"Congratulations." She says while softly clapping in her hands.

"For what."

"You just analyzed your first poem."

"Well, it was about damn time! I should call mom, so that she can take a picture of this proud moment." I laugh quietly.

"You know, you can open your eyes now."

"Oh, sorry. Got carried away." I say with a flushed face.

"Darkness can be enlightening sometimes." She retorts bashfully.

"It sure can …" I reply, thinking whether or not that last statement has a deeper meaning.

"So in conclusion we can say that the poem is obviously about a paradox of memory in bringing joy, but also in blinding us to the joys around us. Because the guy … now you fill in the next part." She urges.

"Uhm, the guy can't appreciate what's in front of his eyes right here and right now, like nature, cause it reminds him of something that happened it the past. Kinda like in 'yesterday'." I clarify while smiling slyly.

"Good. Very good. So you think that he would've been better off if he never saw her?" She asks me, now not letting go of my gaze at any time.

"I don't know. I guess so, obviously this John guy suffered from it."

"I'm not asking John, I'm asking you." She states seriously.

I'm surprised by her tone and it shows me that this poem has a far deeper meaning for her too.

"I guess, he'd be better off without her. It's not like she became his significant other later on or whatever." I assume while motioning with my hands.

"Because he chickened out, he didn't go up to her like he wanted to. It's his own fault that his pleasure is connected to his pain. If he had indeed never seen her, he would've never felt that passionate intensity of 'his soul in flight'. He would've never written those beautiful words down, like millions of other people who were in that same situation. So maybe, by writing down those words he was trying to let us learn from his mistakes. Maybe." She whispers, eyes firmly locked onto mine.

I want say so many words. I want to express my feelings, my emotions in sweetest of serenades. But nothing came out. Inwardly I'm screaming, declaring my love on top of lungs, outwardly I'm as mute as a fish.

Another paradox.

"Um, it's getting late. I should probably get going." She suddenly says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Okay." I agree timidly.

We stand up from my bed and I lead her downstairs in utter silence. I open the front-door and just as Ashley is making her way out, I call her back.

"Thank you." I say sincerely.

"Hey, I'm always open to share my poetic wisdom." She jokes.

"No, not that. I mean thank you, for tonight. I haven't had this much fun since, well … ever." I utter shyly.

"Anything for a Princess I guess." She winks while shuffling from foot to foot.

I smile, for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. Surely my laughing muscles, will be hurting like a bitch tomorrow.

Did I honestly just think that?

"See you tomorrow in English Lit?"

"What, no confrontation in the hallway this week?" she asks in mock shock.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." I smile.

And then, without even thinking straight or give out any warning, I hug her. And I'm not talking about a friendly hug, I'm talking about a bone-breaking, breath-snatching hug. I can feel the tension and surprise in her body at first, but she eventually gives in and returns the gesture, though far more appropriately than mine. We both hesitantly withdraw from the embrace, lock eyes one last time and eventually retreat ourselves completely. She, to the obscurity of the street and me to the safety of my house.

I lean against the door, head faced to the ceiling and wonder whether tomorrow I, too, would be longing for yesterday.


	5. Chapter 5

The days after our little poetry-night went by magnificently. Our connection is getting stronger and purer by the day. I only see her on two occasions though. In English Lit and in the hallways when we decide it's time to have a little confrontation again. I'm getting better and better into understanding the poems. I used to be so superficial when it came to them, pretty much like everything else in my whole life I guess. But Ashley had taught me to read in between the lines and I soon found myself finding deeper meanings into everything. And I don't just mean within the countless poetic words. I still have no idea what she is to me. But she's definitely starting to shape into a very important something, _someone_. Our confrontations are more fuelled then ever. We call out the best lines, and just when one of us thinks they won we surprise each other with a dazzling comeback. In the end, no matter who wins or loses, we both leave with a huge satisfactory grin on our face. Perfectly civil in the classroom, yet so hostile in the décor of the hallways.

I loved it.

The last three days, I loved less. She's been absent for three days on a row. Nothing heard from her. English Lit was beyond boring. Suddenly analyzing poems wasn't that engrossing anymore. The hallways I just tried to avoid. Go to locker, pick books, go to classroom, end class, return books in locker and leave the hell out of there. It was only then that I realized how drastically my life changed over the last few weeks. I used to need her for that war of words once a week, just so that I could feel good. I couldn't care less about the rest. Now I find myself craving her and finding my life mind-numbing without her. Even if we didn't saw each other all that much, just the thought that she was in the same building as me soothed my mind. At first I thought that she was probably just a little sick or she simply didn't feel like going to school so she ditched a day. But three days in a row? Though she'll probably never admit it, I know she enjoys going to school. I used to assume that she was probably one of those brainless badasses but she proved me wrong on so many levels. As her intelligence seems to stretch so much further than mine.

The fact that she didn't come the last few days means that something is wrong, and I want to know exactly what. That's why I'm here in her building, in front of her door actually, just standing there for the last ten minutes urging myself to knock on the damn piece of wood already. One, two, three gentle knocks on the door. One knock for every day she missed, every day I missed her.

I hear some faint noises on the other side of the door, first of footsteps then of fiddling with the locks. And then door swings open.

"Spencer?" she asks surprised.

She looks like hell. Black eye, busted lip, and a slightly swollen cheek. Something is up alright. Incapable of forming any coherent sentences and without even thinking, I shift my hand to her cheek and carefully stroke the bruised marks. I feel her lean into the touch and her eyes flutter for a brief moment, letting her guard down before harshly snapping back into reality and griping my wrist of off her face.

"Where the hell did you get this address from?" she snaps harshly

"I … Principal Jackson gave it to me. I tricked him in to giving it to me so we could work for our assignment." I let out hesitantly, my eyes never leaving her battered face.

"Well, don't worry Princess. I'm gonna give you my part, no need to worry about your perfect GPA." She spats in her ever sarcastic mood.

"Like I said: I tricked him. I didn't come down here for that."

"Then why did you?" She grunts, clearly not amused by my presence.

"Cause I was worried about you." I say truthfully.

"Yeah right." She scoffs bitterly.

"I was, okay. And seems I had a right to be."

"Look, nobody's worried about me okay?" she hisses as she glares me in the eye.

"Ashley, that's not true. I wouldn't be here if it were." I say earnestly, trying to make her understand than she's not alone in this.

She stares down for a second, crosses her arms across her chest. Only to gaze right back at me, with fire-filled eyes.

"Two years ago, I didn't go to school for three weeks. I had three broken ribs, a broken nose and a concussion. Nobody came to visit me in the hospital and nobody came to see me when I was at home. Not even a call. And when I went back to school, nobody was there to ask me where I was or how I was doing. Nobody even noticed my absence. Where the hell were you then, huh." She whispers in an iced voice. Angered eyes, never leaving mine.

Those words were painful to hear, because they were painfully true.

Truth hurts. And at that point, it hurt badly.

"Two years ago, I was a moron who cared more about her clothing than the sake of any human being. I'm not that moron anymore." I said sincerely.

"Than who are you?" she whispers voice slightly breaking in a moment of weakness.

"I'm a moron who cares about you."

I raise my hand to her face again. Gently tracing a line from under her eye, across her cheek and alongside her busted lip. She doesn't lean into my touch this time, but she doesn't back away either.

"Who did this to you?" I whisper, lightly shaking my head. Not understanding how anyone could this to her. Could hurt her this much.

"Look, it's no big deal. I was planning on going back to school tomorrow so .." she says as she slowly lowers my hand from her face.

"Ashley, have you looked at yourself? I do think it's a big deal okay." I tell her worriedly.

"I don't want to talk about it. You should go home, okay. We'll work on our assignment in class." She tells me quietly as she slowly retrieves from the hallway.

"I'm not leaving you here." I say while crossing my arms.

"What? I live here, you got no choice."

"Yes, I do. You're going to come with me."

"No, I'm going to stay _here_. I'm not going anywhere, okay." She says annoyed while inspecting the hallway for any other person.

"Okay. Then I'm staying too." I shrug.

"What?" she asks in disbelief.

"If you're staying here, I'm staying with you. Either way, I'm not leaving you alone."

"You can't stay here. You have no idea- .. You can't stay here, okay?" she says, the last part being barely audible.

"Then come with me." I whisper soothingly.

I left her no choice. And I know that, for some reason I might not want to know immediately, she's never going to let me stay here.

She brings her hand into her tousled hair, before letting out a loud groan.

"Fine. Let me just get some stuff."

I smile slyly and follow her into her humble living room and further into her bedroom. Her bedroom is nothing like mine, that's sure. Whereas mine is pinkish and filled with kitsch, hers is dark and extremely simplified. Her bed is unmade which leads me to think that she was sleeping until I spot an opened book with the cover up.

She was reading.

I inch closer to the bed to take a quick glance at the cover, trying hard not to look like a nosey person, when in reality I'm one of the worst.

'The Alchemist' by Paulo Coelho, it reads. It's one of those titles you heard about during class. You know, those books teachers would rave about and ensure us it would boggle our minds if we read it. Of course we all would think the teacher was mad. I mean, who reads books titled 'The Alchemist' out of own interest? Nobody, really.

Nobody except Ashley it seems.

I glance back up and I find Ashley frantically searching through her drawers. I leave her doing her thing and take the chance to take a further look at her room. There's a bookshelf in one corner of the room, filled with dozens and dozens of books. Large books, booklets, magazines, everything you could possibly read is cramped in that small space. Needless to say, Ashley likes reading. I look a little further and find another intriguing piece in the room. No reading-material this time. But an acoustic guitar. Ashley plays the guitar?

"I'm done. Can we leave now?" She says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I look at her hand and I find her barely holding her backpack. What was she looking for so long, only to leave with her school-backpack?

"Okay, we can take my car."

She nods, and steps out of the bedroom. I follow her and speak up just as she's about to open the door.

"Aren't you going to leave a note or something?" I ask innocently.

"Like they'd notice I'm even gone." She mutters bitterly under her breath.

* * *

"Do you wanna eat something? I make excellent microwave-meals." I joke in a sing-song voice.

"No, I'm not really hungry." She replies expressionless.

"Okay. Do you want to catch a movie then. I got some very cheesy DVD's if you like?" I chuckle good-naturally.

"No, it's okay. I'm not really in the mood."

"Do you want talk about it? " I ask more hesitantly.

"No." She says while fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Not now."

"Okay." I say with a tentative smile, relishing that she's considering to maybe talk about it in he future. I'm probably not going be too happy about what she might say, though.

"Would you mind if I just went to sleep a little early. I'm just really tired right know, I haven't really slept the last few days." She asks me timidly.

"No, I'm okay with it. Actually, I think I'm going to hit the sack too. I'm pretty much beat myself."

"Okay, I'm going to sleep on the floor." She says while motioning to the ground.

"Ashley, you're not going to sleep on the floor." I laugh quietly.

"No really, it's cool. I'm okay with it."

"Ashley, you're my guest. I'd be a terrible hostess if I let you sleep on that back-breaking floor. I'm gonna crash on the couch downstairs, you can take the bed."

"No, no, no! You take the bed, it's yours." She insists.

"Look, why don't we just both take the bed? It might be a little cramped, but it sure as hell will be more comfortable than the cold floor or the minuscule couch." I laugh easing her mind a bit.

"Okay." She barely whispers. This is a whole new Ashley I'm seeing in front of me. Unsure, fragile and very much breakable.

"Ashley, you can relax you know. I'm not going to kill you if you breathe out loud or anything." I joke in attempt to lighten the mood.

She simply nods, heads over to my bed and sits on the edge of it. She looks terrible, really. Every movement and every word she lets out is hollow. A zombie has nothing on her right now. I walk towards the bed and kneel in front of her. Her soft brown eyes, shifted into a dark cold ones, are piercing a hole through the floor. I doubt she even notices me. I move my hand up to her face and move the auburn tresses from her eyes to behind her ears. Her eyes never losing its floor fixation. I slowly stand up, head to the switch and turn off the lights. A dim light of the moon, peeks through the blinds and fill the room with a faint glow. I take her hand in mine and help her up on her feet, so that I can remove the sheets off properly. I tuck her in, like a loving mother would tuck in her child with utter care. Once I'm sure she was comfortable, I head over to my side of the bed and gently enter in between the freshly washed sheets.

She's shaking.

She's shaking and her breathing is labored. I shift closer, not sure whether I should take her out of bed and bring her to nearest by hospital, or simply be there for her. I realize, that no doctor in the world can possible help her at this very instance. What she needs ss comfort. She needs to know, that somebody does care about her. And I'm about to show her that. I move as close as I can get to her until her back is fully pressing into my front. Our bodies mould into each other perfectly, as we were meant to be doing this all along. I'm spooning her, and God does it feel good. I drape my arm around her waist and thread my fingers with hers. She doesn't back away, nor does she lean into the touch.

But it's soothing her.

Her erratic breathing is reaching a normal pace again and the tremble is slowly leaving her body. I rhythmically graze my thumb over the palm of her hand, cradling her into sleep. Soon, I feel her heart rhythm slow down and her body fall heavy into mine. I wait for a while until I'm sure that she's sound asleep. I then lean in and place a soft kiss on the velvety skin of her shoulder, before snuggling into her even more. Lost in the scent of her skin and tangled in the beauty of her body, I follow her into a different world.


	6. Chapter 6

The streaming sunlight wakes me up in the early morning. I try to turn around, still half-asleep, when I find myself unable to do so. I look down to see why I'm trapped and see her body firmly pressed into mine. Her arm securely draped over my stomach and her head nuzzling the crook of my neck. It's probably the first time in these last few days that she's somewhat fully at peace. And I'm in not going to ruin that brief moment of happiness and contentment for her.

School will just have to miss her for another day. And since I'm determined to be there for her starting now, they'll have to miss me too. I glance back at her and revel the angelic sight that the daybreak with it brings. The rays fall softly on her battered cheek and exposed shoulder, almost making you forget about the sorrow she had to undergo. I don't want to wake her up, but the urge to touch her is to great so I gently lift my hand and start stroking her hair ever so gently. I stop abruptly when I feel her stir a little, afraid that I had woken her up. But instead of waking up, she nestles her head into me even more and lets out a barely audible sigh. I protectively place my arm around her waist and let myself drift back into a blissful sleep.

* * *

"Spencer. Spencer, wake up." I hear her whisper while she gently nudges me out of sleep.

Spencer. It's only the second time she has called me by my name and it grants me an odd form of satisfaction. I was getting accustomed to hearing her call me Princess all the time, so I'm happy for the change of pace.

"Ugh, Princesses have to wake up too you know." She hisses annoyed.

Guess I spoke too soon.

"I'm up, I'm up." I assure her while fluttering my sleepy eyes open.

"We're late." She whines aggravated, burying her hand into her messy curls.

"I know."

"So, why don't you wake up and get ready?" She asks slightly confused.

"Cause, we're ditching." I shrug indifferently.

"You ditch?"

"Duh."

"You? Princess? You ditch?" She asks with a cocked eyebrow.

"Okay, so I'm not a ditch-expert. But once, I was supposedly 'sick' and didn't went to school and instead of staying in bed I went to the mall." I say whilst grinning proudly.

She keeps her mouth shut and keeps staring at me disbelievingly. Showing how much she doesn't believe a word I say.

"Okay, actually it was more the 7/11 around the corner. I was scared as hell I would get caught, so I was back in like 5 minutes." I admit embarrassed.

"I knew you weren't a ditcher." She smirks victoriously.

"Look I woke up earlier and you were sort of halfway on top of me and I didn't really wanted to wake you up, so I just went back to sleep." I explain her.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I … I have no idea what I do in my sleep." She says hesitantly.

"No biggie." I shrug, not wanting her to think that I had made some sort of big sacrifice.

"What about your parents?" She asks.

"What about them?"

"Are they cool with this?"

"Hell no. But they're like never home anyway. I mean they leave for work at the crack of dawn and they come back quite late. My dad's always trying to 'save the world' by helping out one troubled teenager after the other. And mom, just literally tries to save their lives. They're so caught up in their world that I barely get to see them." I clarify while getting up from the bed.

"Are you okay with that?" She asks while fidgeting with the end of the sheet.

"Yeah, I mean I'd like to see them more and all but I know they love me. You know, they could be around all the time but if they don't really love me, what's the use? And we have like one Saturday in the month that we do some embarrassing family-stuff like bowling in hideous shoes at the local alley. So yeah, it's not easy but it could be worse."

"Yeah." She says meekly while lowering her eyes to her lap.

I'm just a champion when it comes to ruining the mood, aren't I?

"Um, I'll go and fix us some breakfast." I tell her changing the subject quickly.

"You make breakfast?" She asks me amused.

"If pouring cereal and milk in a bowl is considered as fixing breakfast, then yes I can." I answer in mock sincerity.

"Okay, that sounds good." She laughs quietly.

"Alright-y then. Bathroom is across the hall and I got some fresh comfy clothes in my closet if you want to change. Don't worry, it's not all pink and baby blue." I assure her jokingly.

"Thanks, I'll be down in a sec."

I head downstairs and quickly prepare us some breakfast. I take a seat at the table and silently await her to come down. If you had told me a month ago that I would be waiting for Ashley Davies to have breakfast with me at my place after sleeping in the same bed together no less, I would've declared you a right out nutcase. But here it is happening anyway.

And it wasn't just that. I was gradually starting to form some sort of, I don't know, feelings?

When she kissed me, and I know she kissed me no matter how much she denies it, I thought that I only felt that way because it was such a rush. It was wrong, but it felt so right. Straight Spencer, Princess Spencer, Head-cheerleader Spencer, Queen Bee Spencer, was heavily making out and thoroughly enjoying every second of it, with Badass Ashley, Bitch Ashley, Poor Ashley, Lonely Ashley and last but not least Girl Ashley.

It was oh so wrong, but it felt so damn good. I played it down to the rush. The adrenaline. The fact that I could get caught in a compromising position with the school-outcast in the middle of the club, while my 'boyfriend' was searching for his damsel in distress. Little did he know that distress was the last thing I felt at that moment.

But the emotions I feel lied so much deeper than that. I'm intrigued by her. She's been consuming my thoughts and I soon found myself longing for her company at all times of the day. I felt miserable in the three days that I hadn't seen her. I'm talking about no sleep, no hunger, no mood in nothing - kinda miserable. I made a small conclusion last night. Ashley was my something, my someone. That I already know. But what exactly is still a mystery. Is she my friend? Is she my lover? My foe? I guess in a way, she's all three.

In a parallel world I wouldn't need to answer that question, and me and Ashley could just _be_. But this isn't a parallel world. So I decide to seclude one. Ashley isn't my foe. She never was. I only assumed she was since we clashed from the very first the day we met. But we didn't clash because we were each others foe's, we clashed because we were each others equals. We're both strong and confident individuals, but there's only place for one topspot within a school and it was mine.

Nobody ever even remotely tried to push me of my throne, but when Ashley stepped inside King High she made it her life-reasoning. The thing is, I'm 99 percent positive that she could care less about my school monopoly. She simply did it because she could.

She enjoys it.

I know she enjoys it, just like I enjoy and revel each of our altercations. Did that make us foe's? No. It makes us teenagers that did things out of own satisfaction. The same satisfaction that we reached for when we kissed each other passionately. You don't kiss your foe, and you don't constantly fight your lover either. So is she my friend?

"Penny for your thoughts?" She says saving me from my inner-battles.

"Oh. Sorry. I kinda fazed out." I apologize.

"It's okay. We all got a lot on our minds." She assures, taking a seat at the table.

"I didn't want to pour the milk into it already, it would've made it all mushy."

"Thanks."

She pours the milk into the bowl and slowly starts eating the Fruit Loops I prepared for her.

I follow her lead and soon we're both silently eating our cereals. The room only filled with the crunching noises we produce as we eat. Every once and awhile we look up from our bowls and catch one staring at the other, only to quickly look back down and act as if nothing occurred. We finish our bowls and continue sitting there silently. She looks around the kitchen, trying to find something on which she could fixate her eyes on and I boldly watch her.

"You really should get that cut cleaned." I finally say ending the mutual silence.

"I'll live." She states flatly.

"Ashleeeeeey." I whine annoyed.

"Princeeeess." She mimics my tone.

"Just get it cleaned. Those can get really nasty, if you leave them like that."

"Well, that's my problem then." She retorts stubbornly.

"You're in my house, so you live by my rules. Rule here is that a cut gets cleaned."

"You gotta be kidding me, right. You practically kidnap me down here and now you're using it to your advantage?" She asks me in disbelief.

"What can I say, I'm a downright sweetheart." I reply and innocently bat my eyelashes.

"I'm not gonna get it cleaned. That shit hurts too much." She winces at the thought.

"God, you're such a wuss. Besides, if you won't let me clean it, I'm gonna tell everyone in school that you spend the night in the Princess' Castle." I tease.

"Talk, and Flea Market Spencer will be your new nickname down at King." She threatens in a low voice.

"You promised!" I shriek.

"Yeah, well if the circumstances are dire …"

"Geez, I was just kidding. Never mind already." I say while rolling my eyes.

"But let me clean that cut? Please, Ashley? Pwetty pwease." I pout and give her my best puppy dog face.

"Ugh, fine! As long as it will get you off my back." She answers aggravated.

"Score!" I joke, while jumping out of my chair.

"I swear, you're only happy cause you finally will be able to see me squirm of pain." She snorts.

"Okay, you got me." I laugh while I reach for the First Aid kit on the cupboard. I saunter towards Ashley who's now casually leaning against the kitchen counter, tantalizingly waiting for her torture.

"Okay, it's best if you just sit on the counter." I say while opening the kit to search for the alcohol pads. She follows my instruction and carefully places herself on top of it.

"Found them." I say while showing off the pads.

"Damn it." She mutters under her breath.

"Ashley, stop being such a baby." I sigh exasperated.

"Easy for you to say." She grumbles. I ignore her comment and place myself in front of her. She instantly opens her legs to give me the leverage I need to fulfill the job.

The laughs and complaints rapidly leave the room once I lightly lean into to her. I bring the pad to her face and gently start rubbing the cut that drapes her right cheek, while holding the other one in place with my free hand. She winces and I mumble of few apologies before continuing my job. Her eyes flutter shut while my cleansing-motions, but lazily re-open once I stop the gesture. The cut is cleaned, my work is done, yet I'm still standing in front her, hand on her cheek and stomach softly pressing into her thighs.

Our eyes lock and neither one of us has the guts to blink for more than a millisecond, let alone look away. My hand shifts from her left cheek before I start tracing her lips with my thumb. From one end to the other, softly grazing the small bud of dried blood that decorates it. Her eyes are fuelled with desire and want. Friends don't look at each other that way. I feel her place her hand on my stomach, only to shift it along my waist and eventually to the small of my back. My eyes briefly leave hers to admire her swollen lips. Not swollen by the pain she had to endure a couple of days ago, but swollen by the pleasure she's enduring right now. I lean closer and closer. Our breaths are rapid and feel warm against one's lips.

It isn't dark, it isn't unexpected, it's different. We both want this. She isn't my foe, she isn't my friend, she isn't my lover. She's my …

A familiar ringtone breaks any of my conspiring thoughts and uncontrolled movements.

"Fuck." I hiss as I drop my head on her shoulder. I let out a sigh of frustration before I take a step back. She rapidly jumps off the counter and runs out of the kitchen, not giving me a single look in the process.

"What?" I yell, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

_"Hello to you too."_

"You gotta be kidding me." I laugh bitterly.

_"What? Can't a guy check on his favorite girl."_

Out of all the people that could ruin this moment, my so-called boyfriend ruins it. As if he knew I was about to cheat on him. God, what's to cheat on? He isn't even my boyfriend!

"Aiden, I'm not your girl, okay."

_"Yes you are, silly. You're my girlfriend." _He laughs.

"No I'm not! Will you get that straight for a moment; I am not your girlfriend!" I yell through the speaker. Unable to keep my calm anymore.

_"I don't get it. You're just breaking up with me out of the blue?"_ He asks confused.

" I'm not breaking up with you, because we never got back together! I've been trying to ignore you for weeks, but you just won't take a hint. So please, do me and yourself a favor and leave me the fuck alone. I'm not interested in you, okay?"

"_But the basketball-captain is supposed to date the head-cheerleader. It's all in the High School rules of popularity, baby."_ He explains in his own magnificent logic.

"Oh god, listen to yourself. Just … I'm not your baby, okay. Just get that straight, will you." I explain exasperated.

_"But I don't get it, we were doing so great."_

"Ugh, nevermind. Goodbye Aiden."

_Click_

I'm not your girlfriend moron. Nor am I your baby.

I'm Ashley's Princess.


	7. Chapter 7

She left immediately. I didn't even got the chance to glance at her, let alone talk to her. The only thing I found, when I entered the solitude of my room was a crinkled piece of paper on top of my pillow.

_Had to go._

_Ashley_

Nothing more. Nothing less. Enough to let the message seep through, insufficient to let _me_ in.

Again.

I'm holding the fumbled sheet tightly to my chest, while I desperately try to catch some sleep. Actually, that piece of paper pretty much became my object of obsession today. I must've traced her name a million times, hoping that like a genie would pop out of his bottle, Ashley would suddenly appear in front of me if I just traced it long and carefully enough.

It didn't work.

I bring the note to my lips and softly kiss it, before laying it on my bedside table. It's close to midnight and even though it isn't a school night, I need my sleep. I attempt to forget the days' events and clear my mind from a certain dark haired mystery.

Eventually, sleep wins over and I slowly but surely drift off.

* * *

_Tick_.

I stir lightly.

_Tick._

I sluggishly open my eyes, realizing that the sound isn't produced in my dreams but very much in my own room.

_Tick._

I carefully swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and try to anticipate from where the faint noise comes from.

_Tick._

My eyes glance towards the opposite wall of my room. My window to be more exact.  
I cautiously get up and stroll towards the pane.

_Tick._

I carefully open the blinds, half-expecting a murderer with an axe ready to go all Hitchcock on me. I peek outside once the blinds are half-up and squint my hazy eyes to view through the obscurity of the night.

And surely there she is.

Pebbles in one hand and the other worriedly ruffling her tousled tresses. We lock eyes for a moment, before I hurriedly head down stairs. I open the front door and I'm faced with an inhibited Ashley, hands in pockets, shoulders slumping and staring downwards.

"I didn't want to go home." She lets out hesitantly, eyes still fixated on her shoes.

"I didn't knew where else to go." She continues as she brings up her gaze.

I don't answer her but take a hold of her wrist instead, griping it out of her pocket and eventually lacing my fingers with hers. I draw her inside and quietly close the door behind us. In the silence of the night, I lead her up the stairs and ultimately into my room. We let go of each others hands as we both soundlessly sit on the edge of my bed.

Minutes of deafening silence pass by before she finally speaks up.

"I guess if I barge in here at 3 AM, I might as well explain why." She says, heaving a sigh.

"You don't have too." I assure her as I briefly touched her hand.

"Yes I do." She counters sternly.

I know that I can't change her mind and I'm not about to try either.

"My … I …" she sighs unable, to find the right words to start the conversation.

"Look why don't we just lay down for now and you can talk when you feel like it. No pressure." I comfort her.

She nods and we simultaneously get off the bed. I undrape the bed as she gets in first, not bothering to change her attire. I quickly walk over to the window and lower the blinds, before entering the bed myself. We face each other, looking intently into each others eyes through the dim lit room. I see her opening her mouth, before quickly shutting it again. She's still uncomfortable and I decide to help ease her mind a bit by shifting more closely to her and warily lift my hand to caress her cheek. To my own surprise, she doesn't flinch. Her breathing evens as she attempts to talk again.

"My step-dad hits me. Hits us. Badly." She heaves nervously.

A silence follows while I gently continue to stroke her face.

"It's a not daily thing, but it happens frequent enough. And when it happens, it can get messy. It used to be worse … but that's another story." She whispers shakily.

In the meantime I had moved even closer and the space between us is now practically inexistent. She still doesn't baulk.

"I had a pretty normal childhood until I was 8. Then everything changed for the worse." She lets out sadly.

My hand had slowly creeps around her waist and I start rubbing the small of her back soothingly.

Assuring her to continue.

"I loved my dad. I really did. He wasn't perfect and he wasn't always there for me, but he loved me. And I loved him, and that was enough." She speaks quietly but firmly.

Silence.

"He died. Got hit by a car, the driver had drunken a little too much. He was waiting for the bus after work, and he gets hit out of the blue. He died almost immediately." She says emotionless.

A beat.

"Ironically, my mom started drinking after his death. You'd think she'd learn from other people's mistakes." She laughs bitterly.

"A series of scumbag boyfriends followed and me and my sister found comfort in each other." She carries on, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. As if once she talked about it, all would be resolved.

I stop the stroking after her last sentence. I didn't know Ashley had a sister? Sure, I don't know a lot of things about her, but a sister I would've at least heard off.

"My mom was never the same. Our relationship just wasn't there anymore. But Kyla and me really grew to each other very closely and she practically filled the void that haunted the house ever since dad left us. She meant everything to me. She was all I needed. But then she left me too."

My heart instantly starts aching as I brace myself for what's to come. I suddenly understand why I hadn't noticed or heard of her and I immediately feel sick to my stomach.

Two beats.

"I was fourteen at that time. There was this gang-war going on around my neighborhood about drug and which gang got to have the ultimate power in it. One day tension rose and Kyla was at the wrong place at the wrong time. My sister was caught in the middle of a drive-by-shooting." She continues bravely.

Three beats.

"The thing is, my sister never harmed a person in her entire life. She had more than decent grades, never ever got into any trouble and she was this aspiring actress." She smiles at the memory.

"I mean she wasn't the next Katharine Hepburn, but she had her share of dreams. She was already more than content with acting for unfortunate local youngsters. Never selfish, always caring. Perfect. And look where it got her." She suddenly snaps harshly. But I know better than to take in her direct behavior. It's clear just how much she's hurting over this.

"I lost it all Spencer. Everything. Everything I loved, I lost." She says choked up, barely containing her tears.

It finally dawns to me.

John Keats.

Ashley _is_ John Keats.

_" Keats was this English poetic, lyrical genius. You know, he was the archetype of the English Romantic movement. He had the most amazing works, but nobody appreciated it. He was constantly criticized for no apparent reason. Everything that meant something in his life, was simply destroyed brutally one way or another. His dad died in an accident when he was eight, his mom died of tuberculoses when he was 14, and he spend like a huge chunk of his life taking care of his brother who also had tuberculoses before he finally died too._

The sudden death of her father. The loss off a sibling who she was attached too. A mother who didn't die yet, but could very soon leave her too due to her alcoholic state and crazy beatings she has to endure. An underappreciated and overly-criticized genius.

_… He was madly in love with a girl who he knew he would never be good enough for."_

Was I that girl?

I lift my hand to remove the tresses from her eyes, before I move them behind her ear and start stroking her hair.

"You haven't lost me." I whisper into the night.

I take her hand in mine, guide it to my lips and kiss each of her knuckles lovingly.

"You won't lose me." I promise.


	8. Chapter 8

"Can you believe he actually said that?"

One sentence and my mind goes blank. I have more worries than Madison's obsessing over Glen's every move. I can't believe some people can be this superficial. Who am I kidding? I am one of those people. Thinking that the right make-up, outfit and boyfriend will magically result in the right lifestyle. I judged enough people over their poor appearances. Over their so-called lack of fashion-sense. Their freakish behavior. In class we'd always preach, that it wasn't right to judge a book by its cover. Yet we'd do it all the time. The worst thing is, that we're totally conscious about it. And we keep on doing it. As if it's absolutely normal. Oh yeah, I judged. I still judge, and I'll probably never stop judging. But at least this time, I'm willing to work on it.

And all it took me, is one mystic persona. Countlessly judged, namely by me. Why? She wasn't like us. She wasn't like me. And it's true, she wasn't. She was better than me.

She _is_ better than me.

" … Anyway, I'm so over him."

Is she still talking? Damn. See, this would be a perfect time to judge her. But I'm stronger than that. I just need to fight the urge to do so. But she's so damn, ugh …Okay, calm down Spencer. Think peaceful sea. Think birds chirping in the free nature. Speaking of nature. Is that where that Julia-freak found her outfit today?

Damn it Spencer, no judging remember? Ok think, happy, pleasant thoughts. Think Ashley.

Ashley.

Yeah, I like that thought. She finally opened up to me last Friday. The first words were the hardest, but once those were out, there was no stopping her anymore. So much pain, so much grief, all cramped up in one person. One life. My heart ached after her confessions. It isn't fair that she has to endure what she's enduring. It isn't fair that her pain can't and won't be undone. And still it happens and it will keep on happening.

I judged this girl. I judged a dramatic, yet beautiful book by it's pale cover. I felt disgusted. And I still do. I judged and I'll probably keep on judging. But I'll work on it.

Damn well, I'll work on it.

There she is. In the corner at the back of the quad. Poking her food. Her face has cleared up a bit. You could barely see the remains of the painful events she had to suffer. The physical remains aren't apparent anymore. But the emotional strain is still there. It was always in her eyes. That soreness, that pain. You could read her story through those two orbs. It has always been there. I just never seemed to notice. Just like for the rest of this school, Ashley is the lonely heartless badass. The rebel without a cause. She was that to me too, once. But not anymore.

It wasn't even the confessions that changed my perception of her. Or our poetic night-out. No. It was the moment, that her lips touched mine. Every wall she had put up fell that very moment. Every secret she had, was shared through that one kiss. That moment I discovered the real Ashley.

I keep wondering; was I really oblivious to who kissed me that moment? Did I really not realize at that very point that, the mystery person was Ashley? Maybe I did. Maybe I always knew who the real Ashley was, but just didn't want to face the truth.

Maybe.

" .. And I'm just thinking: how could I ever have been with him?"

God. Talk much? Relax, Spencer. No judging, remember.

"Um, that's great. I'm gonna go to Ashley for a sec."

"God, you're taking that poetry-assignment way to serious. You know James likes to exaggerate." She says while rolling her eyes.

"I'm not going for the poetry-assignment." I counter dead-serious.

"Than why the hell do you voluntary want to go and to talk to that?" She asks disgusted and shocked.

"She has a name." I respond irritated.

"Yeah, trailer-trash." She snorts.

"You say that one more time and I swear I'll make your life a living hell." I threaten her in an icy voice, stepping dangerously close to her.

"What the hell's wrong with you? First you break-up with Aiden for no reason and now you're dissing me in favor of that." She argues dramatically.

"Ashley. I'm dissing you in favor of Ashley. And yes I am. And if you want it to stop, than end the hating-charade cause it's getting old. You can start hanging out with me again when you're done growing up." I snap as I leave her behind completely speechless.

I head for Ashley's table and see that she's still picking at her food. I quietly sit down across of her and continue watching her. She's still fascinated by the contents of her meal when I startle her with my voice.

"Found anything alive yet." I ask.

"Huh." She says confused as she looks up from her plate.

"In your food. I'm pretty sure, whatever's in it isn't dead, yet." I snicker to myself.

"Oh. Yeah, King High isn't really known for it's fine cuisine." She jokes while arching her eyebrows.

The pick-and-stare-at-your-food-fest continues as I try to keep the conversation going.

"You left early Saturday. I woke up and I had to ponder whether your visit was real or only happened in my dream." I say while gawking at the small park behind Ashley.

"What convinced you that it was real?"

"The sheets still had your scent on it." I say while fixating my gaze back on her.

Back to staring at the food. Okay, this scene was slowly becoming the definition of awkward.

"I'm sorry I left. I just didn't want you to get in trouble." She clarifies in attempt to explain her sudden departure.

"Ashley, that's bullshit and you know it. I already told you that my parents are barely around the house." I counter slightly agitated.

Silence.

She looks back down and she seems genuinely lost for words.

"Look, I meant what I said Friday. But you have to trust me. You can't let me in for a moment and then completely shut me out again." I clarify more calmly this time.

"I wasn't planning on shutting you out." She responds sincerely as she meets my stare.

"Good, cause I wasn't planning on letting you shutting me out." I smile.

"Princess is persistent." She sniggers.

"Always." I smirk.

A few silent moment pass, as we both simply enjoy our presence together. I could practically feel all the eyes burning down holes in my back. And I know what they are all doing. They are practicing the aforementioned and fine art of judging. Besides, it isn't every day that the most popular girl in school sits at the same table of the biggest outcast. This was worthy of a National Judging Holiday on itself.

And I have to be honest. It feels weird to be at the other side of the fence for once. But I don't care. It'll take more that harsh whispers and idiotic words from so-called best friends to stop me from hanging out with Ashley.

"Thank you." She says from under her breath, making an end to the silence.

"For what?" I ask curiously.

"For caring … I guess."

"Well, that isn't too hard." I smile truthfully.

She nods shyly and flashes me a sly smile, when I decide to continue my statement.

" … When you're not being a diva anyway." I sneer.

"Cause, I'm the one who acts like a diva?" She chuckles disbelievingly.

"Yeah! You could really learn a lot from a genuine, sweet and humble person. Say someone like me." I smile innocently.

She laughs at my attempted innocence and throws an untouched baby-carrot at me.

"Ew! Don't do that. That thing might just bite me." I say while throwing the offending vegetable back at her.

"Come with me tonight." She says after a few quiet moments.

"Where too?" I ask, surprised at the invitation.

"Just a place I tend to go to once and awhile." She answers cryptically.

"I don't know …" I reply warily.

"Do you trust me?" she asks.

"Yes." I answer firmly, without a moment of hesitation.

"Than what's the problem?"

"There isn't any." I smile.

"Good." She says while mirroring my smile. "I'll come by at 8 at your place. And don't worry, I'll knock this time." She winks as she stands up and leaves me alone with her seven-course-meal.

Was this a … date? I mean, where the hell is she taking me? Oh for God's sake, this could be Mc D's she's talking about. Or maybe, she wasn't. Maybe she's going to sway me a little further in that whirlwind of hers.

I'm truly and utterly lost.

But for the first time in my life, I don't mind being lost for the slightest. Cause I'm lost in _her_.

I, Spencer Carlin, am willing to change. I'm willing to dump my so-called boyfriend, to diss my side-kick, to stop being superficial and to stop judging. I wish I could say, I'm doing it for me. That I'm doing it because I have come to my own realization that I was wrong. But I couldn't. I'm doing it for her.

I'm doing it for that dark-haired enigma, that I'm solving little by little every single day.


	9. Chapter 9

It's a secluded spot, far away from everything and everyone. The only noise that could be heard were those from the waves crashing against the large rocks in the azure water. The sand underneath my palms adds to the soothing effect and I briefly consider to never leaving this place.

It's damn near gorgeous.

The journey to this particular space, was everything but effortless. There isn't a specific route towards this spot, which explains its deserted state and the charm that comes with it. I had to climb rocks, jump from a mini-cliff and squeeze myself through various narrow bushes. I know, very much unlike me. I'm pretty sure I acclaimed numerous scraps and bruises on my legs, but whenever I was in trouble, Ashley was there to catch me. And in the end that's all that really matters.

We are laying on the sand next to one another, our upper bodies held up with our arms, quietly enjoying the breathtaking view in front of our eyes. We hadn't said a word since we arrived. Too baffled by the scene that is displaying in front of us to formulate any rational phrase. I close my eyes at a certain point, and breathe in the eponymous scent of the sea.

"How did you find this place?" I ask, eyes still shut.

"I love the beach. I love to sink my hands into the sand. I love hearing the waves crash. I love the scent the sea produces. I love the calmness … It calms me." She explains, before briefly pausing.

"But I don't love sharing it with other people. I'm selfish when it comes to this. I want it for myself. I want to relish it alone. I don't want to share it with people who're killing the beauty of it. So one day I decided to go on a little expedition and after a few hours of exploration, I found this. It was perfect. It was mine. My secret place of sanity. Nobody comes to bother me here. I can just be me." She whispers into the air, voice thick with emotion.

"Why did you bring me here? Aren't I one of those people?" I ask as I open my eyes.

"No. You're not." She responds firmly, while gazing deeply into the darkness of the sea.

"What am I than?" I daringly ask her. Half-curious and half-wary of her answer.

She stays silent as she closes her own eyes this time. I sigh of both aggravation and irritation, when I suddenly feel her thumb gently brush the side of my flattened hand on the sand. Astonished, I swiftly turn my head to face her, only to find her still with her eyes closed and a relaxed expression on her face. She starts lazily circling the top of my hand, never losing its constant rhythm.

I'm always the one who initiates the contact between us. Any contact.

And now she did.

I never thought that such a simple act of touching would quicken my breathing as much as it quickens right now. Would make my stomach flutter, as much as it flutters. Would let me fall, as hard as I already fell.

But it does.

Her touch is so smooth. So gentle. So soothing. It feels like this highly addictive drug. And you know that if you don't end it, if you don't stop it, you'll be in trouble. Because from the moment you'll get that first taste, there will be no turning back. You'll get lost in it forever. From the moment you'll get to experience that flavor, you'll be in trouble. You'll be lost. You'll enter a whole new universe, a whole new life.

Her touch is my drug.

And soon I'd be its incurable addict

"I did it." She says startling me out of my trance. I glance at her and her eyes are still firmly shut. Her thumb never stopping its movement.

"Did what?" I enquire.

"I kissed you. At the party. It was me." She finally reveals.

We both knew. There never was any doubt. We both knew who kissed who. Who touched who. Who longed who. But I need this. We need this. To hear this out loud. To be confronted with what happened. To examine what it was. Was it based on lust? Lies? Love? Pity? That one revelation is a crucial point in whatever this thing is we have. It's our turning point.

"Thank you." I whisper. Knowing that I don't need to give any further explanation on why I'm grateful. I shift my hand and intertwine my fingers with hers. The control is still with her though, as she mindlessly keeps on rubbing the palm of my hand.

"Would you mind if I did it again?" she asks.

I could easily play the oblivious girl and ask what she means. But I don't. I know damn well what she means. And I need to answer this truthfully.

Because this is _our_ turning point.

"No." I reply quietly.

A few moments pass before I can work up my on courage and talk to her.

"Would you?" I hesitantly ask.

"I'm scared." She confesses.

"Don't be." I quickly assure.

"No. It's funny. Cause I'm never scared. I don't get scared. No matter what I went through, I never got scared. Ironically, fear, is a feeling I never had to undergo. And know I am. I'm scared."

Her hand is still in mine. Her thumb's still circling random motives on my palm. Her eyes are still firmly shut.

She's scared.

_"Darkness can be enlightening sometimes."_

"What are you scared of?" I question as I tighten my grip on her hand.

"This. Whatever this feeling is that I feel." She responds.

"I feel it too." I admit.

"Are you scared?"

"I don't know. No. I don't think so." I end steadily.

"Oscar Wilde said that the only way to get rid of a temptation is-"

"-to yield it. I know." I cut her off. "Is that the answer to these feelings?"

"No. This isn't temptation. It's something bigger. It's more complicated." She explains quietly.

"Than what are we going to do about this?" I sigh.

"What do you want to do?"

If there was a master at dodging incoming questions and firing them right back at you, Ashley would be the one. But I don't sigh. I don't lose my nerve or ignore the inquisition. She deserves answers, just as much as I deserve mine.

"I want to be with you. I don't why and how. And God knows, I can't explain it. But I just want to be with you. I want you by my side all the time and wherever I am. Cause when you're not, my heart aches. You're my secret place of sanity." I divulge barely above a whisper.

"I am with you. I always was. It was a very different bond, but we always were together." She reassures me.

We always were together. She's right. We always were connected. We were attached on so many different levels. We were tied firmly in a knot. A knot that seemed impossible to unbind.

"What do _you_ want?" I suddenly ask, surprised by my own bluntness.

I seem to have asked the million dollar question, as I feel her shift beside me. She opens her eyes, free of any anxiety and fear while she meets my intense gaze.

"I want you."


	10. Chapter 10

"This isn't English Lit." She whispers as she nervously fiddles with a loose thread of her sweater.

"I know that." I chuckle lightly.

"You don't have to sit here. I'm fine, really. I'm sure Miss Lapdog needs you more." She scoffs.

"You're right, I don't have to sit here. But I want to. Besides, Miss 'Lapdog' isn't too keen of me right now, me thinks." I say, referring to the distance Madison has taken ever since our little lunch-altercation.

"Everybody's staring."

"Ashley, I don't care that everybody's staring. I really don't." I reply truthfully.

"Spencer and Ashley, can you please leave your pesky arguments for after class." Mister Walton asks harshly, growing tired of our whispering.

"Oh, we weren't arguing." I clarify pointedly.

"Right. Then please, Spencer. Tell me what you were doing?" he asks annoyed.

"Uhm. Ashley isn't feeling too well. I think she needs some fresh air." I lie effortlessly.

I can feel her eyes practically burning a hole the size of Texas in my face.

"Well, I think Ashley is old enough to talk for herself and ask for a breather if she isn't fairing too well."

"Yeah, if you want to risk having her vomit all across the floor." I snigger.

"Alright." He sighs." Ashley, you can leave class for this hour, there isn't anything major you'll be missing. If it doesn't get any better, check with Nurse Voigt."

"I'll go with her."

"No, you'll stay. Ashley is sick, you are not." He says sternly.

"Sir, do you really want to jeopardize her health and your rep by dismissing an ill student unguarded? I mean, what if she faints in the middle of the hallways and nobody is there to take care of her?" I ask overly dramatic.

He glares at me and starts roughly massaging his temples with the tip of his fingers. This is going to be a close call.

"Just leave, please. Leave, before I grow some logic and change my mind on all of this." He sighs defeated.

Ashley and I quickly retrieve our belongings and jump from our desks, only to sprint towards the door before he could change his mind. As soon as we leave the classroom and enter the hallway Ashley tugs at my hand and leads me behind a corner, bringing us out of eye-sight of any teacher.

"What the hell was that?" she asks slightly shocked.

"Please, like you really wanted to hear another hour of Walton's yanking about math equations." I roll my eyes.

"You're right. I don't. But that little scene there wasn't necessary. We could've just skipped class the old-fashioned way, if you had told me." She states annoyed.

"And where's the fun in that." I smirk.

She rolls her eyes in disbelief before forming a smirk of her own.

"I thought you weren't a skipper."

"Well, I can't help it. Some vicious girl empoisoned my sweet persona." I say in mock innocence.

"Gee, I wonder who …"

"Let's get outta here." I urgently say while pushing her towards the exit. But she withdraws as she immediately winces and clutches her side in pain.

"Ashley, what's wrong?" I ask worriedly, taking a few steps towards her.

"N-nothing." She stutters as she carefully backs away from me.

"Ashley, just-"

"I have to go to the bathroom." She quickly rambled, as she hurriedly makes her way to the restroom.

I sigh at her sudden closeted posture towards me, but quickly follow suit. I enter the bathroom and find her huddled over a lavatory. I am momentarily taken back in time as I recall a close to same scene a few weeks ago. It seems a lifetime ago since I confronted her with the truth. Since I shakily tried to make out why on earth my archrival made a move on me in the obscurity of the night, only to firmly deny it afterwards. Since I questioned why I cared so much to find out. Since I didn't freak out like I normally would've. Since I … since I started falling for her.

I vigilantly take a few steps towards her and situate myself right behind her. She's still hunched over the sink, hiding from me. Hiding from the truth.

I gently place my hands on hers, careful not to startle her, and I instantly feel the tremor in her body.

"Ashley, what's wrong?" I ask quietly.

She keeps silent in her bent posture, not giving in to my presence yet.

"Ashley, please .." I softly plead. She leisurely lifts her head and looks up into the mirror in front of her, meeting the reflection of my concerned eyes. We gaze at each other for moments, and I can't help but wonder if one day I could erase the hollowness and soreness from those perfect features. It's in that moment that I realize that I was constantly tackling the same situation.

Ashley stuck in that deep and dark hole, helplessly all by herself. And as I reach out and I feel her hand clamp around mine, just when I'm about to pull her out, she slips. She slips back into the darkness. Back into to that agonizing fear. All alone. By herself.

She needs to be pulled out.

I need to pull her out.

I tenderly turn her around to face me, and we continue staring at each other directly in the eyes. Her eyes. My eyes. The source of all truths. You can hide as much as you want, for as long as you want. You can try, and you might even succeed. But one fine look in your eyes, and all the lies are shattered.

As I gaze in hers, and she gazes in mine, all our truths are shared. All our lies, small and large, are dispersed. Our secrets are no longer guarded. So many eyes, I've looked right through. So many eyes went by unnoticed. Letting a tale pass by, without even perceiving it.

I don't see through her, and she doesn't see through me. We see each other. We see our stories. We see our reflections. Our past. Our present. Our future.

I slowly drop myself to my knees, never losing contact with her eyes. I can feel her body tighten and relax all at the same time. I cautiously lift her sweater in agonizingly slow manner. Fearing that if I jump a couple beats I'd hurt her. And at the same time, I'm giving her the chance to walk away from this. To walk away from me.

Her breath is ragged, but she doesn't leave me.

She's trusting me.

Bruises are spread all over her. Small and large marks are draped over her stomach, her ribs, her waist. Some of them freshly put, marked by their dark blue shade. Others, already fading to a yellow and greenish tint. The different shades stand in large contrast with the pale color of her own silky skin. I hesitantly bring up my hand and mildly start tracing all of it.

The bruises, the marks, the pain, the hurt, the anguish. Her stomach slowly rises up and down, marking her inhalation. But even more so, marking both her comfort and distress.

I retreat my hand to her waist and look up to her face. She's watching me. She's looking in my eyes and reading my story. And I'm reading hers.

I bring my lips to her stomach and begin spreading the softest of kisses on every inch of her exposed skin.

"Spencer …" She whispers contently.

Every feathery kiss is followed by a sharp intake of breath and somewhere it the middle of it all, her hands bury in my hair and make my head stay in place. Afraid that I'm going to retreat too soon. After a near endless journey of my lips on her soft flesh, I draw back and press my cheek to her exposed abdomen. As I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation of the warm skin underneath mine and her soothing inhalation, I feel her fingers loosely threading through my locks.

She's letting me in.

And I'm pulling her out.


	11. Chapter 11

"What were you like when you were little?"

We are lying next to each other on my bed, staring at the bland ceiling above us. There was no way that I was going to let her go back to her place, after my little discovery earlier that day. She was against it. Naturally. But I couldn't let her go back. I wouldn't let her go back. And even if I know deep down inside that I won't be able to protect her from her demons at all times, I knew that she'd at least be safely in my arms tonight. And for now, that was more than enough.

"Small." She states simply.

"Well, you're awfully descriptive today."

"Just telling it how it is."

"A little more details please." I urge playfully.

"I had freckles. Lots of them." She reveals.

"Oh God."

"What?"

"I'm trying to picture you, Ashley Davies, with freckles." I giggle.

"Thank you, for reminding me why I do not talk about my childhood."

"Oh no, don't stop! I'm sorry, I'm just curious. I bet you were the cutest kid on the block. Attitude included." I chuckle lightly.

"You got that right." She scoffs.

I love this side of her. Actually, I loved all of her sides. But the playful and light-hearted one wasn't always a part of her appearance. That smile, that laugh. When I would see it, hear it, even feel it … I melted. There isn't anything more heavenly than her happiness. It's a shame that she could barely express it. I have to change that. Not change her. Because I wouldn't dare to do that. In fact, I'd probably hate myself if I did. I just need to bring it out more. I just need to make her content. I need to keep her like that.

That's the hardest part. Keeping her happy.

"I wish, I knew you back then." I whisper while taking her hand in mine.

"Why?" she questions while deepening the contact by interlacing her fingers with mine. I still had to get used to her voluntary touch. It still excited and surprised me to no end, just like the first time. Or maybe it's supposed to stay that way?

"I don't know. I feel like a missed an eternity not being with you ."

"You'd hate me though."

"It isn't because we hated each other through high school, that we would've hated each other as kids too." I say as I instinctively rolled my eyes.

"You know those girly girls, that would act all Princes-y all the time, prancing around in thei pink tutu's?" She asks.

"Yes …" I respond pensively.

"And you know those mean kids who'd push them in the mud for no reason, just to ruin their clothes and see them cry?" She continues.

"Yeah …"

"Well, you'd be the tutu-girl and I'd be the mean bully."

"Damn, I would've hated you."

"Told you." She laughs.

We keep laying there, eyes now closed and hands still clasped, enjoying each others presence.

"Ashley?"

"Hmm."

"What was your first kiss like?"

"What's with the flashback questions?"

"Nothing, I just want to get to know you better." I explain.

"I'll tell, if you'll tell yours first."

"Okay, uhm. I was ten and me and my friends were playing hide and seek. I had my eyes closed and was counting, while the rest of them were hiding when suddenly I felt a pair lips on me. I opened my eyes and there was Kevin Deans aka the glue-eating-guy smiling smugly at me. I swear, I literally washed my mouth with soap, cause I thought I was going to die an awful and slow death of cootitis."

"Ever the drama-queen I see." She chortles lightly.

"Just keepin' it real. Now. Your turn." I insist, before she changes her mind.

"God, is this going turn into one of those 'share-a-stupid-secret'-slumber parties?"

"Yes. Now, spill." I say as I bring her hand to my mouth and softly kiss it before returning it back in between our resting bodies.

"I was nine when my best friend back then, asked me if I ever had kissed someone. I told him I didn't and he told me he didn't either. He then asked me if I wanted to feel how it felt and I told him I did. And he took that as his cue to kiss me."

"And then …"

"And then I punched him." She shrugs.

"Huh, why?" I let out, genuinely confused.

"I said I wanted to know how it felt, I didn't say 'jump on me and make me feel it'. Besides he was an awful kisser. Bastard totally ruined my first kiss." She grunts humorously.

A few silent minutes pass again and I've never felt any more comfortable with anyone, then with her right at this moment. She's my soothing calmness.

My restful comfort.

"Ashley?"

"Hmm"

"I want to kiss you again." I whisper.

"Me too." She responds even more silently.

A beat.

"They why don't we?" I enquire curiously.

"I don't know …"

"Should we try or …"

"I don't want to kiss you now."

"Oh." I let out disappointed

"No, it's not like that. I just … I don't want to kiss you on cue. I want it to be spontaneous and unexpected, not calculated and forced."

I let her clarification linger in my head for a few moment, before I come up with a conclusion of my own.

"You know, for a badass, you're a total softie."

"I am not." She counters half-offended, half-amused.

"Yes, you are."

"I'll kick your ass if I want to."

"Then why don't you?" I challenge.

"I don't wanna." Is her lame response.

"Softie." I tease.

"Shut up." She says as she lifts herself lightly and hovers above me.

"Hi, I'm Ashley Davies, and I'm softie." I continue taunting her, while mimicking her tone.

"I swear Carlin, stop it or you're gonna regret it." She threatens while pointing at me with her finger.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do Da-"

And suddenly her lips are on mine. Those same luscious, tender and soft lips I've been craving for weeks. The lips that I couldn't get out of my head, no matter how much I tried. The lips I couldn't stop staring at whenever we were engaged in a conversation. No matter how hostile or sweet the words were she spoke, I always ended up envying them. I envied them because they got to roll over her slick tongue and slip through those sweet, moist lips. You're probably thinking that I'm mad, for envying shapeless words. But you couldn't possibly understand my feelings and sentiments. Not as long as you actually see what I see, and feel what I feel. No description will ever be worthy of her beauty.

Am I mad?

I have no idea.

The kiss is tender, sweet and pleasantly rough all at the same time. Just like her.

Lips barely brushing each other. It's almost as if we are whispering our deepest emotions and declaring our sweetest love through each others mouths. This isn't just a kiss. This is the beginning of our love story. This is the end of our past lives. The end of her agony. The end of my judgmental self.

This is our unifying pact.

She parts her lips from mine, urging me to kiss her back. Challenging me to give in to this oblivion, this dream. She's asking me a question, begging me for a response. I urgently pull her down to me again and reconnect our lips. They move on an accord of their own, with a sense of urgency and passion. She presses herself into me and I swear I've never felt any more alive than at that exact moment. I can't take it anymore. I have to feel her. Touch her. Taste her. I've been waiting so long for this. But not too long.

Just long enough.

I needed this time. She needed this time. We aren't just any other girl in each other eyes. She's mine and I'm hers.

My tongue slides out of my mouth and tastes those perfect lips. I hear some faint moans and heavy breathing in the background. Not knowing for sure, who it belongs too. Not that it matters since at that point, we are one. She opens her mouth ever so slightly, just enough for my tongue to slip in that warm cave of hers. Our tongues dance to the sweetest of serenades, discovering and re-discovering each other over and over again. Only parting when left completely breathless. Her damp forehead is pressed onto mine and my eyes are still closed. Afraid to open them and look into hers. Afraid to grasp the intensity and importance of this situation.

There really is no turning back. This is it. I slowly flutter my eyes open and find hers already open wide. Dreamily gazing into mine with those chestnut brown pools. That's when I knew. I'm so painfully sure of it and I ask myself again;

Am I mad?

God, no.

Just madly in love.


	12. Chapter 12

"Hey, baby. Long time no see."

"Would you please just stop it Aiden. It's getting old."

Yup, he's still in denial. He has been practically harassing me ever since I had 'broken' up with him. He can't grasp the fact that he has been dumped by me, so he just pretends that we are still together. Which technically we never were, because I hadn't taken him back. So I also didn't really dump him, I just confirmed the situation. Yeah, this is complicated even in my own mind.

"What's up sweetie? Rough day?"

"Hey jock-ass. Why don't you just fuck off?"

Ah, there she is. My knight in shining armor. We have been 'together' for five days. Five amazing, blissful, perfect days. I could try and attempt to describe it, but I wouldn't do it any justice. It's something that you have to live through. Experience through your eyes, through your own feelings. Although I don't really think you could call it being 'together', since we haven't really discussed our little situation yet. We just have been hanging out a lot more. She didn't sleep over anymore after that night though. I tried convincing her, that she could stay over whenever she wanted to but she refuses to "be a hassle". I'm pretty sure the real reason lies much deeper than that. About as deep as the cut I had discovered on the small of her back the day before, while she bent over to pick something up. I didn't ask her where she got it from. I'm not stupid, I know damn well where it came from. But she needs to tell it to me on her own accord. It's her decision to make.

"Whatever. You think, you're all that now cause she's hanging out with you, huh? She's just using you, like she uses everyone else. I'm sure hanging out with the school freak wasn't on her resume of life-experiences yet. She'll keep using you and making you feel like you're actually worth something, and when she's had enough with you she'll kick you to the curb and pretend she never even knew you. You're just another little experience she can brag about later on." He spews out at her while eyeing us with a disgusted look.

I know what you're thinking right now, though; does he know? Well, luckily he doesn't. Nobody does. As far as the school is concerned, the cheerbitch and the badass freak teamed up to form 'King High's Duo Of Terror'. Their words, not ours. They figured that while our little assignment we had come to the conclusion that together we'd be untouchable and we'd have the undeniable power in school. Though they are indisputably right, it's kinda disturbing to know that people thought you were on some kind of evil mission to rule the world and use its habitants as modern slaves.

But it's for the better.

We both don't exactly know what we're exactly experiencing and we don't need any more unnecessary drama by a leak of information on our 'over-friendly state'. Not before we can actually make sense of this on our own first. Besides, it feels nice to know that you don't have to share your most precious possession with the entire world. Don't get me wrong. I don't want to hide Ashley or my relationship with her. But for the moment being, I want to keep it for my own and simply revel and enjoy its transcendence in al her beauty. And boy, did I enjoy it.

"Don't you dare talking to her like that, moron. As a matter of fact, you're not even allowed to talk to her or even be in her presence. So why don't you take your dumb ass out of here, and kill off the rest of your remaining 10 brain cells in the gym. You got that?" I snap, while pointing a threatening finger towards him.

He scoffs, turns around and quickly makes himself scarce. Aiden Dennisson, ever the coward. I, too, turn around to face Ashley, who's in turn finding the floor extremely fascinating again.

Great. Boys, really do ruin everything.

I look around, trying to spot any unwanted ogling eyes and when confronted with none take her hand in mine and lead her into one of the many empty classrooms. It's Friday afternoon and the only people that are present, are the students who busy themselves with extracurricular activities. From the tortured nerds of chess club to the adored studs of the football-team, all were dispersed on the school property. Amongst them is also the cheerleading team, that are probably practicing their highly idiotic cheers again.

And me? I'm ditching them.

Again.

It's the third time I've done so on a row. The other members of the team are getting mighty pissed, but don't dare to speak. Terrified that they'd get kicked off the team and out of the popular clique at the same time. Madison is thoroughly enjoying my absence though. She can finally order people around in her skimpy, two-sizes-too-small cheer-outfit as she fills the position of captain when I'm not around. In her world that equals the epitome of success. And I completely grant her that. Not that I like her all that much. I actually pretty much loath her ever since she had dissed Ashley, even though she's been keeping her insults to herself from then on. It's just that she's coming in awfully handy since I have more important … stuff to do. It's a win-win situation, really.

As soon as we enter the room, she untangles her hand from mine and proceeds to take a seat on the front desk. Head bowed down. Hands clasped in her lap. And silence.

Deafening silence.

Something is up, alright.

I slowly saunter towards the front, placed myself in front her and wait for any sort of response. And predictably, the response doesn't come. It's in times like these that I wish I didn't always had to make the first move. That she would just respond to my presence in these situations. That she would talk to me first, instead of me almost forcing her to do so. I wish I could tell her that in her face. Question her why she just won't trust me fully, cause surely her hesitancy to talk to me privately had to be the cause of that? I wish that she didn't have to act and feel this way in the first place. I wish I could be understanding, all the damn time. I wish I could stay mad at her long enough to actually finish my stupid inner-rantings. Because no matter how frustrating it can be, the exasperation leaves my mind in second the moment she just looks at me with those big brown Bambi-like eyes that evoke the sweetest of feelings inside of me. And it's that feeling, that particular emotion that I need to feel.

So I reach out and hold her chin, while I slowly make her look into my eyes. I expect anguish, nervousness and even a smidge of shyness that I only discovered as of late, but I find something so different. Something so unexpected, but so welcoming.

She's happy. Content. Whatever you want to call it.

The glow her face reflects. The playfulness that glimmers in her eyes. The sweetness that comes with her smile. All of it leads to that brief state of happiness. And all I want to do is to preserve that moment for her. All I want to do is kiss her again.

I told you, that these last few days have been very momentous and startling. But when it comes to our little liaison, we are still sort of reluctant. Not one of us has ever been in a situation like this before, and neither of us knew what exactly to do. Sure, we have been romantically involved before. But this is different. This is so much more intense on every single level. This is that larger-than-life experience that we only read about in unrealistic romantic novels.

Shy and gullible kisses were shared on the lips. Some of them never even going further than a brief encounter with one's cheek, marking their sweetness in the most innocent of ways. Secretive handholding under the lunch-table, away from all the critical gazes. Sweet nothings whispered in each others ears. So childlike and clumsy at times, but so damn perfect at once.

"He's an ass. Please, don't mind him." I say as I stand in between her legs and take hold of both of her hands.

"I know and I don't. It's just …"

She drops her gaze again.

"Just what?" I say as I lift her face to watch me in the eye, once more.

"I've let you in. So please, don't pull away okay? Cause I don't think I could handle that." She confesses hesitantly, voice slightly breaking in the process.

"What are you talking about? Ashley you know I'm not like that."

"Look there are enough people that tried to step into my world, but once they figured me out they left. I'm not a fucking crossword puzzle you can try to solve and throw away once you're finished." She lets out, now clearly upset.

"I know that! Is that what you think of me? That I'm using you as some sort of leisure pursuit ?"

"No Spencer just …Don't leave me. Please?" She whispers as she downcasts her eyes yet again.

"I won't okay. And you'll just have to trust me on this. I don't care what my idiotic ex-boyfriend says or how many stares we get. I wanna be with you. Just you." I divulge genuinely while brushing a stray of her auburn hair behind her ear.

"Thank you. I really needed to hear that from you." She says as she tentatively places a small but loving kiss on my lips. The shyness is still evident as both our faces grow a dark shade of red, when we meet each others gazes.

"I got something for you." She says after a brief moment of silence, while she reaches down her bag.

"Really?" I ask pleasantly surprised, feeling a goofy smile form on my face.

"Here." She says as she hands me a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?" I enquire.

"I finally took my time to choose a poem. You know, for the assignment."

"Oh, thank you. I almost forgot about that." I say as I'm about to unfold the paper before she puts her hand on mine, stopping my previous actions.

"Don't read it here. Read it at home. Okay?"

"Sure. But why don't you want me to read it now?"

"Well, I actually want you to analyze it. Just to see if I taught you well." She smirks mischievously.

"Analyze it? Without you? I don't think I can do that. Big brainless poet, remember?" I chuckle.

"I think you can." She responds seriously.

"You do?"

"Yeah." She replies huskily.

"Okay, then." I say as I instinctively bite down on my bottom lip.

"You should stop doing that, you know."

"What?"

"Biting your lip."

"And why should I Miss Davies? Tell me, does it make you _hot_." I flirt as I make sure to bite on my lip even more obviously.

"Nah. Just not a big fan of kissing bruised lips. It's kinda disgusting really." She shudders mockingly.

"Is that why, you're so reluctant to kiss me then?" I ask playfully.

"No. That Princess, is solemnly due to your bad breath."

I humorously swath her arm as I enter into a full on pouting-mode.

"I can't believe you said that, you jerk!"

"I'm just kidding." She chuckles as she snaked her arms around my waist and pulls me into her.

"Then why won't you?" I mumble contently into her hair, while she hugs me tighter.

"Cause every time I kiss you, I'm afraid I'll wake up and realize it was all just a dream."

"It_ is_ a dream." I sigh before briefly pausing to kiss the nape of her neck," We just don't have to wake up."


	13. Chapter 13

As I find myself in the same situation over and over again, I realise that I couldn't do this anymore. I tried to ignore the secrets, the anguish, the hurt but I couldn't keep it up. It was too much. Too much for a simple teenage girl like me to handle. Changes needed to occur. And as she sits in front of me, eyes fixated on her lap, I contemplate what to say. What to do.

"Ashley, I can't do this anymore."

She's still looking down. And she's still fiddling with her hands. She knew that this was coming. She knew it the moment she stepped in here.

"This just can't happen any longer."

And still no change occurs in her posture. No words spill from her mouth. No shock or horror paint her beautiful features.

"Just say something, Ashley. Please?"

She's doing it again. She's choosing to take the easy path in difficult times. You know the silly behaviour you used to display when not wanting to hear the painful truth. You would cover your ears and annoyingly shout 'I can't hear you', when you heard damn well what was said. That's what she's doing right now. Just in a more subtle way, but with the same desired effect.

"Ashley, you can't keep on doing this to me."

"Doing what Spencer?"

"You know what, Ashley."

She lowers her gaze again. As if she's ashamed of what I just said. Scared to see my actual facial reaction.

"I … I can't keep on pretending. I can't act as if this is most common thing ever."

She's a total mute again, and I can slowly hear the barriers that are being cemented around her fragile body. The same barriers that I worked so hard on breaking off.

"This has to stop now."

As I utter that sentence, she raises her face and brokenly looks at me. Suddenly the noise of cemented barriers briefly halt. With that single look, she's asking me to help her. She's pleading me to stop her from being thrown back into that isolation.

"What does have to stop?"

"Don't do this, Ashley."

"Please. Just say it."

She says it with desperate urgency. She needs to hear it out loud, just like I needed her to confess that she kissed me. No more secret truths or strident lies.

"You can't keep on coming here at random times in the night all bruised and beaten up. You can't keep not saying a single thing, while you silently shuffle in my bed. And you can't keep on leaving before I wake up and act as if nothing ever happened."

There it has been said. It's out. No more pretending. No more secrets. No more lies. This has to end. Because if it doesn't, than we have to make an even bigger sacrifice. A sacrifice I'm not willing to make by any means.

"I won't come anymore. I'm sorry I dragged you in to this." She says as she start lifting herself up from the dryer.

You're probably wondering what she's doing on top of the dryer in the washroom. Well yeah, it pretty much became the patching-up room. She comes here all battered up, sits upon the dryer and waits for me to come with the first aid-kit to clean her up. No questions are asked, no answers are given no matter how bad the situation is. Just a helpful girl, helping out a seemingly helpless one. Like a silent agreement. Once that is done I kiss her on the forehead, take her hand in mine and lead her to my bedroom. We silently enter my bed, hold each other through the night, finding comfort in one another and the next day I wake up in an empty bed. And we never talk about it again. Every action, every motion, was absolutely the same. Every single time.

So was today. We entered the washroom, like always. She raised herself onto the dryer, like always. I stood in front of her with the first-aid kit, like always. But that's when the atomismes stopped.

I changed the routine.

"Ashley, stop. You know, that's not what I meant." I say as I put my hands on her knees and force her to keep on seated.

"Than what do you mean, Spencer?" She says slightly frustrated.

"What I mean is that you can't keep on not letting me in. We've had it about this since day one, why do you keep doing this?"

"I've let you in. How many fucking times do I have to keep telling you, huh?"

"You wouldn't need to, if you actually showed it."

"Well, that's rich Spence." She's says offended.

"You've been letting me in, and then shutting me out completely. For every step you take forward, you take two back."

She opens her mouth wanting to argue further, but nothing comes out. She knows it's true and endless bickering won't help her cause. So she slumps back and looks around the washroom. Looks everywhere but at me. And that's when I see a lone tear glistering down her beautiful face. No matter how much that bastard would beat her up. No matter how many bruises would stain that angelic façade, never would it come close to fade out her beauty. I reach out and brush away the tear, letting it linger lightly before lowering my hand to the back of her neck. And just like that, with the simplest of touches, she lets me in once more. I'm in her reality again. In her own little world of dark secrets.

"I don't know what to do." She sniffs out helplessly.

"We'll figure it out together. But you can't keep on taking this way. I'm scared for you, Ash."

"Don't be. I can handle it."

"No, you can't. It's only a matter of time before this escalates into something even worse, if that's even possible. I can't lose you, Ashley." I let out sincerely.

"You won't, I promise. I just … It's so bad, Spencer. It's been getting worse and worse. I mean, he just …" She stops, suddenly losing her courage to continue.

"It's okay." I say, while softly massaging the back of her neck.

"When he starts … he just can't seem to stop himself. His eyes, they become so hollow, Spence. So lifeless."

"Why don't you inform the cops? I know the law works slow but even they can't ignore beatings like these."

"No, I can't do that. If they bust him, they'll bust my mom too."

"Why? She's as much as a victim as you are."

"Alcoholic mom who brought in the abusive step-dad and neglected her children since the death of her husband? Yeah, not so much. Besides, I'll just be jumbled from foster home to foster home."

"You can stay here. My folks really won't mind, you know. I mean, my dad …"

"No, I can't just suddenly start living here. Besides I can't leave my mom alone. She's made some bad decisions in her life, but she's still the same mom that baked me cookies on Christmas eve. She's just been fucked up, ever since- We all have been."

I realize that a solution won't be found in a matter of moments. But I'm not going to give up on her after she trusted me with all the information she just handed me. It's the most she revealed to me since that very first night she ran into my house. It's clear that no rescue-plans will come out of this night. Partly due to the intensity of our previous conversation and the needed time to process it, but even more due to the fatigue we both feel and displayed. It's close to  
4 AM after all.

So I do what I do best and comfort her. I lower both my hands to the small of her back and pull her into my embrace. Her head buried under my chin and her hands clamping at the hem of my shirt, wordlessly begging me to not let go. And I don't. I simply continue rocking her gently back and forth. She, still on top of the dryer and me still in between her legs. There was a time not so long ago, I'd be worried to death to be caught in this position with her. Caught by the dismissive stares of judgmental surroundings.

Now, I'm just worried. Worried about her. Worried about her health, about her life and future. Worried that I'll never see her smile again. Worried that one day, that one extra hit will be her last. And not in a good way.

I've broken the routine today. I took a left, instead of the usual right. I took the longer road instead of the usual short cut. But I also took the road with the most beautiful surroundings, instead of the sheltered dark and empty road. But in the end they both lead to the same destination. My safe haven. My home.

My Ashley.

But one is shady and sinister, whereas the other is sun drenched and clear. I choose the one with the bright future. It will just take a longer time to get there. Time that I'm willing to take, for as long as it's needed.

"It's going to be okay." I whisper one last time, before kissing her on the forehead, taking her hand in mine and leading her into my room. Into my warm bed, where we live in our own little parallel universe and where all that is bad will be forgotten until the early morning.

No. Sometimes, not everything needs to change. Just a little adjusted.


	14. Chapter 14

She stayed.

She stayed and I've never felt more relieved, more happy and overjoyed in my whole life. You have no idea how it feels to wake up and see her breath evenly, see her at full peace, feel her wrapped up in my embrace. She didn't wake up at the crack of dawn. She didn't quietly creep out the door like a thief in the middle of the night. She didn't leave me behind worrying about her and wondering what I'd done wrong to make her flee.

No, she stayed.

I was contemplating whether she ever had the chance to flee me. Maybe she just didn't get the opportunity to leave before I woke up. Maybe she just slept through it and couldn't wake up. Maybe she started freaking out the moment she woke up and realised it was way past 10 and I had woken up before she did. Maybe she was planning to leave me again, but just missed her chance.

And oddly, the assumption doesn't make me mad nor sad. It relieves me. It relieves me because it would mean that she slept soundly through the night. It relieves because for a few hours, she was at total peace. She didn't need to worry about any pain, about any agony, any distress. For once she was lost in a land of dreams, not nightmares. And as she laid there beautifully undisturbed in my embrace, I knew she was relieved too.

When she walked into the kitchen hair all mussed, eyes sleepy, yawning and with a hint of a smile on her face I couldn't help but stare and foolishly grin. I couldn't help but beam and take in the view in front of me, trying to memorise as many details as possible. How a lock of hair fell in between both of her eyes, but not quite in the middle. How the left side of her tanktop had ridden up a bit, displaying a small unexplained scar right above her hipbone. Or how when she yawned, she'd immediately close her eyes and would leave them that away until after the yawn was finished for about 1.5 seconds.

And when we were at the table, kitchen filled only with the sounds of sterling teaspoons stirring in dark, sugary coffee and the plunking caused by the droplets of water dripping from the broken faucet that my dad has yet had the chance to fix, everything felt just right.

And when she suddenly out of nowhere, makes the goofiest face ever just when I was about to take a sip of my scorchingly hot drink, and I end up spraying it all over the table because I couldn't withhold my laughter, everything didn't feel right.

It simply was.

"Your mom is really nice."

Oh, yes. Ashley met my mom today. For a second all that seemed perfect, seemed to evaporate into thin air. I almost had lost her again. The moment my mom unexpectedly walked into the kitchen, I felt her stiffen immediately. Gone were the pleasant silences and goofy grins. In were the awkward glances and painful stillnesses.  
But one touch, one hand holding the other, one second of skin brushing skin in the secrecy beneath the table and all seemed well again.

Of course there still was the weird introduction. The shyness and the shame displayed on Ashley's face, while ducking her head desperately trying to hide her appearance. The questioning eyes of my mother, wondering why this 'new friend' was acting so timid. The squeeze I gave her hand that encouraged her to look up. The shock that registered on my moms face when she saw her battered one. And then the automatic concern that filled my mothers voice when she rapidly asked what had happened.

You didn't have to be a doctor to see that the bruises were caused by a beating. But that's the thing, my mom is a doctor. Yet at that moment, the worry she was showing wasn't one of a doctor or maybe not entirely anyway. It was of one of motherly instinct. When my mom walked over to Ashley sweetly asking her if she was okay, she was not Doctor Carlin who had to take care of a nameless patient. She was my mom, Paula Carlin, fretting about her daughters friend. And when Ashley didn't flinch at my mothers hand that rubbed her arm comfortingly, she wasn't just the friend of her daughter anymore. She was the equivalent of her daughter. For those few minutes, Ashley _was_ her daughter.

"She has her moments."

We are at the beach again. In her secret spot. We wanted to run away from everything and everyone for a little while. You know, just before we had to hit the madness of reality again. And this was the perfect place to momentarily hide from this world together. And as I'm sitting in between her legs, my back to her front and her arms draped around my waist I'm feeling the relief of her not leaving me. The giddiness of her appearance at the kitchen entrance. The contentedness of our coffee-drinking selves. The perfection of us being us.

"Thanks for covering up for me."

My mom fussing about Ashley also had a bad side. There was the inevitable explanation she had to give. And as I saw her stuttering a string of words, desperately trying to form a coherent sentence but failing miserably, my heart broke a little. So I jumped in and gave an explanation of my own. One were Ashley protected me from a harassing ass who wouldn't take no for answer. Things got out of hand and the guy and some of his friends started beating her up. In some ways it was true. Aiden was being a harassing ass and Ashley did stood up for me but the latter part never happened of course. Although the emotional beating she got day in day out by the likes of Aiden probably hurt just as much as the physical ones. Maybe even more.

After we assured my mom that everything was cleared up at school and a trip to the principal's office wasn't needed, she dropped the subject. Not before suggesting medical help, which was refused by Ashley immediately, and thanking Ashley profusely but she still dropped it.

"Anytime."

"God I wish I could stay here forever." I add a few moments later while taking in the breathtaking view in front of me.

"You know, I used to think no matter how perfect this place was in my mind, that it still missed something. And I just couldn't put my finger on what, because I thought I had everything I needed right here. But now I'm sure."

"Sure about what?"

"That it did indeed miss something. Someone." She whispers in my ear.

And when the wind picks up, her grip tightens around my waist and her nose nuzzles the back of my ear, I'm not relieved. Nor do I feel giddy or content. At this doesn't feel right, or even _is _right.

Because all I feel is her. All I feel is us. All this feels is perfect.

All this is, is love.


	15. Chapter 15

**The very last update of the pre-written chapters. You'll have to wait a while until I write a new one. In the mean time I'll start updating my other fics again. Thank you for the constant and nice feedback. Hope to read them again soon enough.**

* * *

"You're still reading this?"

After days and days of begging, Ashley finally gave in and brought me to her place. Well her room would me more exact, since she dragged me into it the moment I stepped in her apartment. She didn't tell me, but I know that she made sure that the place was vacated first and that there would be no one at her home. That doesn't mean that she let me roam in it freely. It was clear by her very nervous demeanor throughout the whole ride down here that she did not want me here. Of course, I know better than to take this personally and feel insulted. The reasons why she was so reluctant to invite me in to her place, were already known the very first time I had knocked on her door. She didn't have to put it in exact words for me to understand.

"Still?" She asks me with a raised eyebrow and comes to sit on the bed next to me.

The Alchemist is still proudly displayed on her night stand and it makes me wonder if it ever leaves her vicinity in this room.

"Yeah, I saw it here the last time I came here." I explain to her and she looks at me with a frown and I realize how I might be coming over. "Not that I was nosing around or anything, it's just it was on your bed and I-"

"Spencer, it's okay." She interrupts me with a laugh. " And I'm not _still_ reading it. I'm just reading it again."

"That good, huh?" I smile slyly.

"Well, considering I read it about 25 times I'd say so. It's just a personal favorite of mine, that's all. It uh … It helps me escape reality sometimes, you know." She says bashfully all the while ducking her head.

"What's it about?" I ask her with a genuine interest. There has to be something special about this book, if she has read it just a third of the amount of time she mentioned. No to add, that I'm curious to know why it makes her escape reality as she puts it. A reality that is so much harsher than it should be for anyone and of which I can understand she would want to break out off as much as possible.

She looks up at me and flashes me a wide smile, before cocking her head. She takes the book from the night stand and gently places it in my lap.

"Why won't you read it and find out for yourself." She tells me with a wink. She finally seems at ease with me being there and starts acting more and more like the candid girl I've come to learn these last couple of weeks.

"Oh, no it's your favorite. You need it. I can't take this with me." I urgently say as I try to hand her the book back.

"Relax, just read it and bring it back afterwards. I can miss it for a while." She assures me as she pushes the book back into my hands.

"But, I read really slow. Like second grade slow, you'll probably get it back by next year." I joke, not wanting her to give away such important piece of her life. I could never take it away from her if this helps her get through the terrible nights she might spend down here.

"Don't worry about it," She tells me as she points to the corner of her room, "I have enough reading-material for the next two years. I should be okay." She sighs in mock- exaggeration.

"You sure?" I ask her hesitantly.

"Positive."

We knowingly smile at each other for a few moments before we both shift our gazes and nervously look the other way. I take this chance to take in her room for the second time around. This time more freely and without the fear of being caught. The first thing I noticed when I was here the first time was the blankness and darkness of the room. What I didn't notice was just how neat it was. There are no clothes haphazardly thrown around the room, the bed is perfectly made and all her books –besides the one I had in my hands- are all nicely ordered in the shelves. It's a big contrast with my room, that usually is a complete mess throughout the whole week. The only time that it looks half-decent is Sunday when I usually am bored enough to clean it. I want to be surprised that Ashley out of all people, seems to be so organized -even in her bedroom- but fact is that I've come across far more astonishing revelations about her since New Year's eve. Every single day just seems to be another opportunity for me to unfold another part of this intriguing piece of mystery. I used to regard her as the absolute prototype for the badass from the wrong side of the tracks, but all she's been giving me has been bolt from the blue. If there's actually one person amongst us that suffers from the cliché's surrounding a certain 'type' of person, it would surely be me.

"Do you play?" I suddenly ask.

"Huh?"

"The guitar," I clarify as I point to the object of my attention. I actually completely forgot about it and only remember it now that it's straight in front of me.

"Oh, no." She says quietly. "Well, barely anyway."

"Make up your mind." I chuckle as I lightly bump my shoulder with hers.

"Well, I know how to play a few songs but I don't really play _play_. Just the basics." She tells me as she nervously fiddles with her fingers. " My dad taught me a few cords. It was his' actually."

I'm taken away at first because it usually takes a lot more prodding from my side for her to tell me anything personal, certainly when it was in direct relation to her family. But I quickly recover myself and place my hand on hers, lightly urging her to stop the fiddling and look me into the eye. She takes the hint, follows my silent plea and I'm met with an anxious smile.

"Tell me about him." I whisper, hoping that she won't back down and trust me enough to share this private information with me. I know that I've slightly caught her of guard by the sudden questioning glance she throws me but the squeeze she hands me tells me that she doesn't mind it.

"Well, he's ... uh … he was- " She pauses to regain her composure to continue, "He was really great." She finally tells me. Simply, easily and well-composed. I think for her, that's all it comes down to in the end. Her father is … was great. It sums it up perfectly and I would've been content with that statement alone but she doesn't know that and she decides to continue anyway.

"He used two work two shifts a day to keep a roof on our heads, so I didn't see him a whole lot." She says in a low voice. "But, you know, he was there for me when I needed him and that was enough for me, I guess."

I take her hand that's tangled in mine and place it in my lap, stroking the inside of her palm. She looks at me and flashes me a genuine smile and I can't help but mirror her gesture. "He usually wasn't there to tuck me in at night, but I'd always hear him coming in my room to check up on me and Kyla when he got home. I always pretended that I was fast asleep, because I didn't want him to get mad at me." She continues in a barely there voice.

"The days he could check up on me, he'd always take that guitar and sing me and Kyla a lullaby." She smiles bashfully while the guitar in front of us.

"That must've been really nice." I respond in a hushed tone.

"It was. Those are my favorite memories of him. He was kinda a hot shot at High School, you know. Lead singer of a garage band and all. He used to tell me that mom was a sucker for his raw voice and leather jacket and swooned every time he started singing." She laughed quietly. "He tended to exaggerate a lot to stroke his ego a bit."

"You miss him a lot, don't you?" I ask her softly, without even thinking.

"I do." She whispers and slowly leans down until her back's fully on the bed. I lower myself too, until I'm hovering over her laying body. Her eyes are closed and the only sounds she's making come from her even breathing. I take this chance to unabashedly take in her beautiful features and I can't seem to understand how a person could hurt such a fragile, sweet and genuine young girl like her. It's so unfair that there are people out there that don't ever have to worry about a single thing in their life and take whatever they have for granted, when Ashley has been hurt in so many ways in her young life. How she's still getting hurt every single day and how nobody seems to care. How nobody seems to stand still for just a moment and wonder what might be going through the complex mind of that lonely girl in the back of the classroom. I lift my hand and carefully cup her cheek and she doesn't even flinch. As if she has been anticipating this whole move all along, as if she trusts me with her eyes closed –figuratively and literally speaking. I move my hand and gently start brushing my thumb over her eyebrows, down the bridge off her nose and eventually her soft and luscious lips. I let it linger there when I hear her sigh contently in to the air, not once opening her eyes.

"You are so beautiful." I hear myself whisper hoarsely. Suddenly her eyes are open and the emotion that is passing through them has never been this intense. She softly kisses the thumb that's still placed on her lips, before she takes the hand and threads her own fingers with it. I feel my eyes shifting from her orbs to her lips in an endless tango of which I have no control of. Those lips are now moving and I'm positive that if it wasn't for the absolute silence in our surroundings that I would never heard her whispered words.

"Kiss me."

My heart is ready to jump out of my chest when I slowly lower myself to meet her moist lips. No matter how many times I kiss her, I will never get used to this feeling. I will never get used to the emotions that explode within me when our lips touch. But her saying those words out loud, making me kiss her and not the other way around, showing me that she needs me just as much as I need her take the previously experienced sensations to a whole new level. I by the way one hand of hers snakes into my long locks and tightly holds my head in place and the other continuously squeezes mine, I know she feels just the same way. We start kissing each other lazily and on a very languid pace, telling one and another that we have all the time in the world. That this thing that we have, this connection that we share is something that will not end any time soon. We're telling each other that whatever will happen, the bond between us will never die.

It doesn't last long before we're completely lost in each other and every single rational thought is vanishing in the frenzy we're creating. Gasp and moans are being emitted and tongues are finding their twins in the heat of the moment. And as delicate hands nervously start roaming warm skin, the noises of front doors opening and drunken screams become inexistent to our ears. As we come closer and closer to our little piece of heaven, we neglect the piece of hell that is about to burst on the other side of this door.


End file.
